The Trust
by aelitaheiderich
Summary: Reid is taken by the Trust, and organization run by a sinister man known as the Director. Can Reid's team find him and bring him home?
1. Prologue

Prologue

The operatives watching the subject were certain that he was unaware of being observed. They had had him under observation for about two months-they had learned his routines, kept eyes on him practically at all times, and they were confident of a successful extraction and resettlement.

He was not an easy man to keep track of during the day. His morning was easy enough to follow: he would leave his residence at or around the same time each day and his commute rarely varied. He preferred to take the subway rather than drive, and his doing so made it easier to keep tabs on him. Occasionally he stopped for coffee at a coffee shop. Once at his workplace, they had to wait. There was far too much security to contend with while he was at work. Often he would leave his workplace with his team at various times to take care of cases out of town or to speak or host a class at one of the nearby universities. Once he attended a conference. Sometimes he would be gone for days, but once he returned, they could continue observation. They'd had orders from higher-up not to follow him if he left his city of residence.

At the end of his workday, he would take public transit again to a variety of places. There were parks he liked to frequent, sometimes to play chess and other times to sit and read. Sometimes he would just walk about, lost in thought. There were cafes he liked to visit, and his local public library was visited frequently. Other places would be bookstores. He made a weekly run to a nearby grocery store, purchasing food that would keep well in the freezer or cupboard. Notes were made of his dietary preferences and tastes and were submitted to headquarters regularly, along with a daily itinerary of his movements and activities.

If he socialized, it was primarily on the weekends and with members of his team. He would meet them for lunch, dinner, a film, or other activity and observation would continue while he was occupied. Preferred activities were noted and submitted. If he did not go out, then he was observed at home. Discreet security cameras and microphones had been posted in his apartment during one of his trips out of town and his routines and activities noted. At home, he would read a great deal of the time, write articles for publication, write letters, watch films or television, or spend time online. There were periods of creativity in the kitchen that led to him either enjoying the fruits of his labors or placing a call to a pizza restaurant or take-out establishment. In the evening he would retire usually around ten or eleven o'clock and any sleep disturbances were noted and submitted.

His observers found him intriguing. He lived quietly for the most part and his most active periods seemed to be while he was at work. It was frustrating in the extreme that they could not observe him there. It wasn't until one night that one of their members had the idea of putting a microphone in a seam on the messenger bag he carried everywhere with him that they were able to keep some sort of tabs on him at work.

The audio they received over that microphone was incredible. They listened as their target chatted with coworkers, worked on cases, and once, horrifically, he was threatened by an "unsub" with a gun in his _workplace_. All four of the operatives observing him could feel their hair turning gray as he talked the gunman down and got him to surrender. All of that talent and potential could have been lost with just one bullet.

It was horrifying. Once the situation was successfully resolved, they sprang into action. Within moments they had their home base on the phone and they were describing what had happened. Once they finished relating the last horrific detail their call was transferred immediately to the director.

" _This is the Director. I was told why you've called. Are you certain that is what happened?"_

"As certain as any of us can be," the team member on the phone averred. "We heard our target say, 'You don't need to hold a gun to my head.'"

Silence on the other end, and then, " _I see. I had hoped to have more observation done before we brought him in, but it may be prudent to bring him now. If he's in such a risky occupation, I doubt we have much choice."_ The Director paused. " _All right. You have a go for extraction and resettlement. Bring him in, but make sure you make the experience as easy and as pleasant as possible for him. He's been through a great deal, and an asset such as he is...well, I don't need to go on, do I?"_

The operative smiled. "No, sir. I understand. We'll extract him tonight and head your way."

" _Be careful, son,"_ the Director said kindly. " _See you soon."_


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I know, I know. This is another "Reid's been kidnapped" story, but this was a plot bunny that wouldn't let me alone until I wrote it. So, here it is. Read and review if you like.

Chapter 1

Reid stopped in front of his apartment door and pulled out his keys. It had been a long case and he was glad that it was over. He wished they could all take tomorrow off and get some rest, but he and the rest of the team had to report bright and early to go over paperwork. He slipped the key into the lock and was just starting to turn it when he heard footsteps behind him.

Before he could react, the Juggernaut hit and knocked him through the now-open door, where he was pinned to the floor.

"Do not make a sound," a voice snarled in his ear. "Understand?"

Reid nodded frantically. Either this was a random robbery or his work had followed him home, but in either scenario, it was not good.

Three more pairs of feet followed the first pair in and Spencer's door was shut and locked. Hands pulled him from the floor and pushed him into the easy chair and he got a good look at them. They looked like the epitome of secret agents. Dark suits and ties, sunglasses, and earpieces in their ears. What the heck was going on?

"All right," the first one said, keeping his hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Do you take any medications?"

Spencer stared at him. "Um...no. Why?"

"Anything you can't bear to leave behind?"

Spencer squashed any fear that threatened to choke him. "Where am I going?"

The first one shook his shoulder. "Answer the question."

"You mean keepsakes?" Spencer thought about the things he had and then decided no, if he took something with him, it might be lost-why on earth were kidnappers asking about keepsakes? "No, nothing I want to take with me."

"Okay. All your phones, tablets, any electronics you may have-where are they?"

Spencer opened his messenger bag and held out his personal phone.

"Any work phones?"

He hesitated too long and they took his bag from him. "Hey!"

One of the others put a hand over his mouth. "Quiet!"

They went through his bag and removed any and all tech and left it all on the coffee table.

"Want to take this bag with you?" the first one asked. "You take it with you everywhere."

Spencer thought about leaving his bag behind and flinched inwardly. No, he had to take it with him-but then his brain caught up to him. If he left it here, then his friends would definitely know that something had happened. Like Goon 1 said, it went everywhere with him. "No, it can stay here. I'd be afraid to lose it if I took it somewhere new. But...where am I going? And why?"

"We'll answer that later," the first one said. "Now, here's what's going to happen: We're all going to walk out of this building together. If any of your neighbors stops and asks where you're going, say that you've been called in to work and we're here to pick you up. You won't run, and you won't try to tell them that we're taking you against your will. If you do, we will shoot the nearest person. Once we're outside, there's a black SUV parked by the front door. You're going to get in the back seat and then we're going to go and you're not going to give us any problems. Understand?"

He'd gone past scared and went to deeply frightened. He nodded, and they pulled him out of the chair. They unlocked his door and pulled him out into the hall. They locked the door and they started down the hallway. They reached the elevator and soon they were on the ground floor. There was one person checking his mail, but they walked right past him and outside. There was the SUV. They unlocked the door and pushed him inside.

It was a pretty nice car, Spencer noted as he dropped into a seat. It was built more like a limousine than a regular car-there was even a television and a minibar. The whole situation immediately took on an air of unreality. What kind of kidnappers kidnapped you in style like this?

One of them slid into the driver's seat while the others took their seats in the back with Reid. One of them reached around him and fastened his seat belt just as the ignition turned on and they pulled away. Reid took his courage in both hands and asked, "So, where are we going?"

"We have orders to take you in," the first one said as he shifted in the seat next to Spencer. "You'll find out who and why and where we're going shortly."

Reid's knee started to jerk up and down. He didn't like this one bit. The only comfort he could derive from this situation was that they obviously intended to keep him alive, else why did they ask about medications and keepsakes? "Um...I should probably tell you...please don't give me any drugs. I'm a recovering addict and I've been doing great on my sobriety. I don't want to lose all that progress just because you want me to go to sleep or answer questions or...something."

"Noted, kid. Why don't you sit back and enjoy the ride?"

"Enjoy being kidnapped?"

"Think of it as a relocation."

"A relocation against my will. Got it."

Was it his imagination or had the driver just chuckled?

He stayed quiet for the next few minutes as they drove through the city. He had to think of a way to get away if he could-God knew he didn't want to be kidnapped! There were four of them and one of him and...wait. They were stopping at a red light. This might be a chance. Had they engaged the door locks? He thought about it and he hadn't heard the locks engage. This was probably the only chance he'd get.

He didn't even have to think about it. In a flash he had his seat belt off, the door open, and he had one foot out when they grabbed him.

"WHO FORGOT TO LOCK THE DOORS?!"

"HOLD ONTO HIM!"

"GET BACK IN HERE!"

He was yanked back into his seat and pinned, the door was closed, and he heard the locks engage. He was frantic now. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! CALL THE POLICE!"

"Wallace, get that canister!"

Reid heard a hiss and a gas canister with a mask on top of it came into his line of sight. He screamed and fought, but they held onto him and placed the mask over his face.

"It's okay, kid," the one holding him said into his ear. "There's hardly any drug in it-just enough to help you relax. Take a deep breath and it'll be okay."

There was a thick, cotton-candy kind of smell, almost like a candy store run amok. Reid thrashed, he kicked and twisted in their grip, but eventually the gas took effect and he felt his limbs grow heavy and his body relaxed. As soon as that happened, they removed the mask and turned off the canister.

"There. Better?" one of them asked.

Spencer ignored him. He was too sleepy to answer him anyway.

"Don't worry; it shouldn't affect your sobriety."

 _It had better not,_ Spencer thought savagely.

The drive was quiet after that and after a few minutes a blanket was taken out of a cupboard and spread over him. He felt drowsy and relaxed and with the blanket, wonderfully warm. He felt pretty good in spite of himself. His lassitude combined with the soothing hum of the car made him so relaxed that after a few more minutes, his eyes slid closed.

"Do you think he's asleep?" he heard after a few minutes.

"Asleep or out of it, the result's the same," someone answered. "The director said to keep this as pleasant as possible for him, but he's making that a challenge."

"Hey, I think we've done the best we can under the circumstances. I was surprised as hell when he went for the door. Never realized the kid had it in him."

"Maybe we'll be lucky and he'll sleep the whole way. I don't think my nerves could stand another attempt like that."

There was silence then and Spencer thought about his situation. They weren't going to kill him and they were trying their best not to hurt him, so those were two things in his favor. Once they got where they were going...he wasn't sure. He wished he had more information.

"Did the Director say what to do once we got him there?"

"Standard resettlement, and then he'll have lunch with the Director."

That sounded perfectly ominous.

They were quiet then, leaving Spencer to his frightening thoughts. He had no idea where they were going. That evening, he'd gone home from work not expecting anything more than curling up with a good book and here he was, in a car on his way to...somewhere. From their talk, he could tell that it would be a long trip, especially if he were having lunch with the Director, whoever he was. It was dinner time now, so they would probably be there some time tomorrow. Ergo, it was going to be a long trip. That just made him more nervous. Where were they going?

Time did something strange then. Either he fell asleep or he was so out of it that he blacked out, but suddenly he was waking up. The car doors were opening and the engine turned off and he was helped out of the car. "Wh-what?" he croaked through a mouth that felt stuffed full of cotton.

"You've been asleep a while. We need to get up those steps and into the plane."

His eyes finally focused and he saw a neat little jet, a lot like the one his team used to travel to cases. His brain caught up to his eyes and he shook his head. "No."

"No?" one of them echoed. "We can't drive there, kid."

"No, I'm not getting in that plane. You'll have to drag me."

"You're pretty skinny, Dr. Reid. I'm sure we can manage that. Don't they ever _feed_ you at the FBI?"

Reid ignored that and stepped away from the car. He dropped the blanket, turned, and started to move as fast as he could away from the plane. He felt like he was running through waist-deep sand and that each of his legs weighed a hundred pounds, but he was not going down without a fight.

One of them-he still couldn't tell them apart-caught him before he got too far, and they did drag him to the plane and started pushing him up the stairs. He fought and yelled, but any punches or kicks he landed didn't have much power behind them, and soon they were inside the plane and he was pushed into a seat and held there until the door was closed and locked.

A man came back from the cockpit and another man came forward from the tail of the plane. "Everything all right?" They spoke almost in unison.

"Kid, do you have a fear of flying?"

Spencer shook his head, his fear waking him up a little. He was being kidnapped and the full force of it was hitting him. "No, I just don't want to be kidnapped."

He saw one of his kidnappers hide a smile.

Spencer's face flushed and his jaw tightened. "Sure, laugh it up," he snapped.

The man shook his head. "No, it wasn't what you said, it was the way you said it that was funny. You made it sound like you were saying you didn't want to go to the dentist or something like that."

Spencer ignored him and the two new men went back to where they'd come from. "You're not going to drug me again, are you?" he asked after a moment. He still felt foggy from the last time and he was sure that if he hadn't had the last remnants of the gas in his system, he might have gotten away.

"No need to. How are you feeling?"

"Pissed off."

"Ah, physically?"

"I have a headache, slightly nauseous, thirsty, I have an ache in my neck, and I feel foggy. And pissed off."

"Duly noted," the first man said as they heard the engines fire up. "There's a seat belt by your hip; do you need help putting it on?"

Spencer took the hint and fastened the belt. The rest of them took their seats and the first one called out, "We're stowed, Charlie!"

The plane started to taxi, it turned, taxied some more, and then it took off. Everyone unbuckled the belts once the plane was level and Spencer watched his abductors. They were relaxed and appeared used to traveling this way. He wondered if they'd done this before since their level of ease spoke of something they'd done before, and perhaps many times. What were they, an elite team of kidnappers?

That thought did not make him feel any better. Why would someone send an elite team of kidnappers after him?

Spencer fiddled with the band on his watch and checked the time. It read seven-thirty. Had they driven all night only to get on a plane? Where on earth were they taking him?

Half an hour later, all of them were busy with different things. One of them had pulled out a notebook and was jotting things down, two of them were checking their phones, and the last one had an issue of the Washington Post and was reading it.

"Here you go."

Spencer jumped. The man from the tail of the plane was holding a sealed bottle of water out to him. "What?"

"I heard you say you were thirsty."

Reid took the bottle and examined it. He saw nothing that led him to believe it was drugged-no pinpricks in the cap or neck of the bottle, and it was a brand that could be bought in any store. "Thanks."

"Drink it slow," the man advised. "Any food allergies?"

Spencer shook his head and opened the water. "No. Why?"

He smiled. "I'm Mark, and I'm your culinary genius for this flight. I'm in the middle of preparing breakfast and I wanted to be sure I didn't give you anything you shouldn't have." He clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit."

Spencer turned his head to watch him go, confused. "Breakfast?"

"Of course," one of the Evil Four said. "We didn't kidnap you to starve you, Dr. Reid."

"You said you would tell me where we're going, and you've evaded the question each time I've asked it," Spencer said, holding onto his patience. "Are you going to tell me?"

They all looked at each other. "It might be best if the Director told you. You might get confused, otherwise."

"If you know anything about me then you know that I'm smart enough to keep up with any explanation," Reid stated. "You know I help investigate kidnappings and disappearances in my work and right now, all the scary details of those cases are running through my head like cars through the Daytona 500. Please tell me so I can stop being so scared."

The driver nodded as if he understood. "Ah. Well, okay. We'll tell you the basics and then the Director can explain the rest. We're members of an organization called the Trust-the four of us, and Charlie and Mark are responsible for transporting individuals that the Director chooses."

"I gathered that," Reid said before taking a sip of water. It felt wonderful on his dry throat. "Just what is the Trust?"

"Well, they're all people who are gifted, like you. If they have exceptional gifts and the Director feels that they need a supportive and protective environment, then he orders them brought in."

"I have a supportive and protective environment," Reid snapped, angry that this Director felt he had the right to make this kind of decision for him. "I'm a member of the BAU."

"And you've been shot, attacked, kidnapped, drugged…"

"Well, you haven't shot me yet," Reid interrupted. "But the rest of it…"

"You know what I mean, Dr. Reid," the driver said firmly. "The Director ordered you brought in after that last unsub reached you in the BAU and held a gun to your head."

The man they were talking about had been the unsub in the last case. The man had figured out the BAU was on to him and had managed to make his way into the bullpen and to Spencer's desk. He had had a gun held to his head, but he'd been in a room full of armed people. The unsub hadn't had a chance. "He may have had a gun to my head, but here I am, without a scratch and without your help, so your argument's a little weak."

The driver nodded. "Okay. Still, the Director sent orders and we followed them."

"And you follow his orders without thinking about them?"

"We're well-paid."

Spencer nodded. He should have known.

"The Director said that you're too valuable an asset and too gifted an individual to risk losing, so he ordered you brought in," the driver continued. "Don't worry, once you settle in and get used to being there, the main campus for the Trust is a great place. Plenty of people say it's like a never-ending vacation."

Some part inside of Reid cringed. "Sounds boring."

"Nah, there'll be plenty of things for you to do, and the best part is that you'll be around people who are just like you and like all the same things you do," the driver assured him. "There's activities, classes, you'll be given projects to work on, and after you've been there a few years, they'll arrange for you to have trips off-campus."

Reid's ears clamped onto one word. " _Years_?"

Mark arrived then, pushing a cart laden with covered dishes. He set up tables in front of their seats, served breakfast, and wheeled himself out. Spencer stared down at the meal in front of him and tried to think. It looked like normal scrambled eggs, toast with butter, ham slices, and fruit salad. Dare he trust what was on that plate?

"You didn't have any dinner last night, and it'll be a while until you have lunch," the driver said, breaking into his thoughts. "You should eat."

His stomach's complaints decided him, so he started with the toast. Forty-five minutes later he'd managed a bit of everything that was on the plate and sat back in his chair, feeling somewhat better. That was when Mark arrived to clear away, and to Reid's eternal gratitude, he brought coffee with him. "Oh, yes," Reid breathed as Mark poured him a cup.

"A man needs his coffee," Mark remarked. "There's more in the back if you want it."

"Thank you," Spencer said gratefully, taking a sip. "Okay, that's slightly disturbing. How did you know how I took my coffee? This is perfect."

Mark nodded his head toward the Evil Four. "They told me."

Spencer thought about how they would know that, then about what they'd said about what had happened at the BAU, and he put it together. "How long have you guys had me under surveillance? What did you do, bug my apartment?"

"And your bag," the driver answered. "And to answer your question, for about two months."

Spencer wished that his plate hadn't been taken away so he could stab these men with the fork. He leaned back in his chair and thought about his situation and most importantly, how to get out of it.

* * *

He'd stayed wrapped in thought for the whole flight, only snapping out of his thoughts when he felt the plane shift and start to descend.

A chime over Reid's head went off. "This is your pilot speaking, we are circling for a landing. Please fasten your safety belts and prepare for landing."

Reid fastened his belt and looked at his kidnappers. "Once we land, what then?"

"There'll be a car waiting to take us from the airstrip to the main campus. You should be able to see it from your window."

Reid looked. He could see the airstrip, and...wait a minute. "It's not...is it an island?"

"A peninsula," the driver corrected.

Reid felt himself relax. If it wasn't an island, then his chances of escape would be much higher.

That was when he saw the place. There were a ton of buildings, manicured grounds, gardens, and paths leading down to the beaches. "This place is a resort?"

" _Was_ a resort, but the Director found the place perfect for the campus he needed, so he had it converted. Looking forward to seeing more?"

Reid didn't answer. The plane landed and he was escorted out of it, and the heat hit him right away. It was at least eighty degrees and humid. He didn't get time to appreciate the warmth, though, since he was escorted down the steps and into a car. Before he could reach for the belt, one of them buckled it for him, and the car pulled away. They headed down a gravel road, through a stone arch, and they were there.

"Everyone calls this the Main Square," the man on his left said as they drove around a large, paved open area. "There's a campus exchange where you can shop, and over here is the Green. As you can see, it's a popular place when the weather is nice."

The Green looked like a park, with paths, benches, shady areas, an outdoor gym, and he could see some chess games being played, and, wait a minute. Were two of them playing 3-D chess?

He turned away, telling himself sternly that he was not interested. He wasn't going to stay here, no matter what. He would get away. "So, where are we going?"

"The wellness center. It's protocol for each new arrival to have a medical exam when they arrive."

"Great," Spencer ground out, feeling extremely irked. The only time he liked going to the doctor was when it was an appointment he'd made himself, and even then he didn't like it much. "Look, if we're going to be spending much more time together, how about you tell me your names? I can't keep thinking of you as the Evil Four."

All of them broke down laughing, even the driver.

"I didn't say that to be funny," Reid muttered.

"Oh, kid, we've been called worse," the driver said once he got his breath back.

"Band of Bastards, the Four Suck-eteers, Kidnaps R Us, and so on," the man on his right said. "All of you are real creative. I'm Wallace."

The name sounded familiar. "You're the one who gave me the gas."

"Sorry, kid. Orders are orders."

"Mm-hmm. And the rest of you?"

"Bell." That was the driver.

"Keller."

"Jackson."

"WBKJ?" Spencer said, putting the names together into an acronym. "Sounds like a radio station or something."

"Will bring kid geniuses?" Wallace said thoughtfully. "Nah, wrong letter."

"Keep thinking, I'm sure something appropriate will come to you," Spencer said, looking out the window.

Shortly after that they pulled up to a large building, all floor to ceiling windows. "Wellness center," Bell said. "Everybody out."

Spencer got out of the car and was nearly knocked over by the heat again. If anything, it was hotter than when he'd gotten off the plane, and being in the air-conditioned car had not helped him acclimatize himself to it. "Phew. Is it always this hot here?"

"It's always warm here, but it's not usually this humid. Been a lot of rain lately, so that's probably why. Come on."

They led Reid inside and up to a front desk. "This is Dr. Spencer Reid, newly arrived," Keller said to the woman behind it.

She typed something into a computer and nodded. "He's on Dr. White's schedule. Third floor."

"Thanks. Let's go, Dr. Reid. Elevators are over here."

The back of the elevator was all glass, so Reid could get a good look at the building. It was built in the shape of a horseshoe. "So, the wellness center is a hospital?"

"Yes and no," Wallace agreed. "The center part of the building is all the administrative offices. The branch we're in now is the health clinic. If you get sick or injured or if you need check-ups, medicine, or a visit with a dentist or optometrist, you come here. The Director made sure it's a pretty comprehensive place. We've even had some people have surgeries and treatment for cancer here."

That did not make Reid feel much better. "Okay. What about the other branch?"

"There's a fitness gym, a few rooms and a pool for hydrotherapy, a studio for things like yoga, pilates, aerobics, and so on, and there's a spa. You can get a haircut, your nails done, a massage, acupuncture, physical therapy for injuries...like I said, it's a comprehensive place."

"That sounds like it needs a lot of staff," Reid said after a moment. "Are they all well-paid?"

"I'm sure they are."

Dr. White's office looked just like any other doctor's office, but the decor was more lush than what he was used to seeing. A nurse called Spencer's name, just like in a regular office, and took him back to a triage area.

"Okay, shoes, jacket, and sweater off so we can get your weight," she said, once she'd closed the door. "Go head and step onto the scale, please."

Reid ignored the request. "Listen, I'm a kidnap victim," he said quickly, grasping her shoulders. "Those men brought me here against my will and I have to get away…"

"Everyone brought here is a kidnap victim," she said calmly. "That is, those who aren't staff are kidnap victims. I'm staff, and I do my job. Do I have to call some orderlies to help you?"

"You're okay with helping to imprison people?" Spencer snapped, stepping away from her.

"I'm okay with doing my job," she answered. "This is your last chance before I call some orderlies, so what is it going to be?"

Spencer glared at her, but he removed his shoes, jacket and sweater, just as she asked, and she took his weight. After that she took his height, blood pressure, and temperature, and led him to an exam room.

"Please wait here, Dr. White will be in in a minute," she said, and then she paused. "If you get the urge to take a walk, you should be aware that there are orderlies patrolling the halls. The exam is the point where a lot of new arrivals try to run. They don't get far."

"I bet," Reid muttered, dropping into a chair. "I'll stay put."

She left and as soon as the door was closed Reid was up and pacing. He had to think. He had to figure out a way to get away from this place. He wished with all his heart that his teammates were here. He'd always felt that they could pull together and accomplish almost anything, and a situation like this...well, they'd manage it.

A knock on the door heralded Dr. White's arrival, and what followed was a standard medical exam with the usual questions. Reid had his heart and lungs listened to, his reflexes checked, and his eyes, ears, and throat examined. Dr. White checked his abdomen and joints and range of motion and started typing into a computer. "Well, I can say you're in excellent health, if a little underweight. I think you're the type to get so involved in what you're doing that you forget to eat, so I'm going to submit a nutritional plan to the dining hall to make sure you get all the nutrients you need. I'd also recommend some yoga or pilates or even some physical therapy to help you loosen up a little. A weekly massage wouldn't hurt, either. All that tension you're carrying might cause you some discomfort down the line. Think about it and let me know which you'd like to try. Unless you become injured or sick, I'll see you back here in six months, all right?"

"If I'm here," Reid said, gathering his sweater and jacket.

"You'll be here," Dr. white said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I'll walk you out."

"Now what?" Reid asked as soon as Dr. White had returned him to his escorts.

Wallace stood up and tucked his phone into a pocket. "We take you to the Director."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hotch checked his watch for the second time in ten minutes and made a decision. "Could someone call Reid? He's never this late."

"That's what I was just thinking," Rossi said, pulling out his phone. He dialed and waited. "Hey, Reid. Where are you? We're all waiting and we're getting antsy. Call us." He hung up and sighed. "I hate voicemail."

JJ pulled out her phone and started texting. "He may not pick up for a phone call, but I think our boy wonder will notice a text."

Emily grinned. "What are you sending him?"

"Henry's sick and he wants to see his Uncle Spencer," JJ answered. "That'll work. He'll text me back in about ten seconds."

"I'd give it five," Derek said, taking a sip of coffee.

Ten seconds passed and nothing happened. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. A full minute. At two minutes JJ started to look a bit worried. At five minutes, she looked at Hotch. "Okay, that's never failed to work before."

Penelope came into the round table room and looked around. "Still no Reid? Do you think he's sick?"

"He would have called if he wasn't coming in," Hotch answered.

"No, he would have come in anyway, insisted he was fine, and argued when we all put our feet down and insisted he go home," Rossi reminded him. "Something's wrong."

Hotch nodded. "Derek, would you and Emily go over to Reid's apartment and call us once you've checked?"

Derek and Emily both got up and nodded. "We'll call you once we're there," Derek promised.

* * *

One of the perks of working in such a tight-knit team was that they all had keys to each others' places. Derek and Emily keyed themselves in and looked around.

"Reid?" Derek called. "You here?"

"I'll check the bedroom," Emily said, heading that way.

Derek spotted something strange. "Uhh...okay, that's weird." There on the coffee table were Reid's personal and work phone, and on the floor next to the table, looking as if it were a lost puppy, was Reid's messenger bag.

"What's weird?" Emily called from Reid's room. "He's not back here, and he's not in the bathroom."

"His messenger bag's here," Derek said as Emily joined him.

"Then where's Reid?" she wanted to know. "He never leaves that thing behind."

"I don't know," Derek said, checking the phones. Neither Rossi's voicemail nor JJ's text had been checked. "I think something's wrong."

Emily nodded. "I'll call Hotch."

* * *

Two hours of frantic working and they managed to obtain the security footage for Reid's apartment building. It showed Reid going up to his apartment and then shortly afterward four men in suits followed him. Less than ten minutes later the footage showed the same four men _with Reid_ headed out of the building. The camera out front showed them all getting into a car and driving away.

Hotch was in his office watching the footage intently. "He made a point of looking at every camera there was."

"Yeah," Rossi said thoughtfully. "Who the hell _are_ those guys?"

"I don't know, but it's now our business to find out," Hotch answered. "This case will take precedence."

Hotch and Rossi joined the rest of the team in the round table room. "We're going to have to go on the assumption that Reid's been abducted," Hotch stated. "Local law enforcement has already closed off Reid's apartment as a crime scene. Garcia, what's the status on traffic camera footage?"

"I'm bringing it up now," she said, typing frantically at her laptop. A window popped up and she made a frightened sound deep in her throat. "Oh, dear. Oh, my. It's Reid. One second and you'll all be able to see."

The footage came up on the projector screen. It showed the car that their unsubs were using stopping at a red light, and then a back door opened and they could see Reid struggling to get out. He was pulled back in, the door closed, and the car moved on.

"I don't believe this; nobody even looked up," Penelope complained.

"Probably bystander effect," Derek said thoughtfully. "Then again, it happened pretty fast."

Penelope replayed the clip and all of them got a good look at Reid. The expression on his face told them all they needed to know: He was afraid.

"Definitely didn't go with those guys willingly," Rossi said, studying the image.

JJ looked at her phone. "Okay, just got confirmation from the facility where Reid's mother is; they've got her under guard and they will be vigilant. They stated that no one's tried to contact or approach Diana Reid since Reid's last visit with her."

"Safe to say they probably won't concern themselves with her, then," Emily sighed. "It's most likely their primary target was Reid."

They continued watching clips of the footage as the SUV made its way through the city and beyond the reach the traffic cameras. Penelope was already bringing up maps to find out their probable destination. A moment later her computer beeped and she looked slightly panicked. "Uh...guys? I'm getting hits from a ton of cameras from different places. Looks like they drove most of the way and their journey ended on a single-lane road and the only thing down that last road they were on is a private air strip. Satellite images of the area from early this morning show a small jet...oh, this is big. This is scary and big. How are we going to find Reid?" She stopped and seemed to gather herself. "I'm checking on just who owns that airstrip and how to contact them. I'm amazed Homeland Security hasn't shut it down and made it a dog park!"

"If it's an airstrip on private land, any owner is only required to register it," Rossi said. "There's not going to be much monitoring."

"Oh, wonderful," Penelope groaned. "Okay, I'm going to need all the resources at my disposal, so I'm going down to my office. I'll be typing away and making things happen. I'll buzz you when I've got something." So saying, she gathered up her things and scurried out.

"Emily, Derek, and Dave, you try running those faces through facial recognition; see if anything comes up," Hotch ordered. "I know Penelope trained all of you in how to do it. JJ, you keep in contact with local law enforcement. Contact me if you find anything. I'm going to contact our higher-ups and let them know the situation. We'll meet back up in two hours to go through victimology."

Everyone nodded and headed to their posts, but JJ hung back a moment.

Hotch noticed. "JJ?"

"It's...I'm sorry, I just don't like thinking of Reid as a victim."

"We're not going to," Aaron told her. "He's a member of our team, and we just haven't found him yet. It's just a matter of time if we go through our process. Whoever took him went to great lengths to take Reid alive, so it stands to reason that he's still alive and that he's all right. We'll find him."

JJ nodded. "Okay. Maybe one of the local officers noticed something that will help."

Hotch watched her go and gathered his files. Whoever had kidnapped Reid had probably thought the BAU wasn't too much of a threat to them. They were about to find out just how wrong they were.

* * *

Taking him to the Director was more complicated than they'd made it sound. He was escorted across the admin wing and into the wellness wing of the wellness center.

"The Director's meeting us here?"

"Nope, lunch is formal," Wallace told him. "You need to get ready."

"Ready?" Reid echoed as they entered a place that looked so much like a spa that it was no-nevermind.

A young woman stepped forward. "Good morning. How may I help you today?"

"You can call the police; I'm a kidnap victim and these are my abductors."

She looked from Reid to the Evil Four. "New arrival?"

"Arrived this morning. He needs to get ready for lunch with the Director."

She smiled and nodded. "I'll get things prepared."

Reid watched her go with narrowed eyes. "Is everyone evil here?"

"That depends on your point of view," Keller told him. "Come on."

They escorted him past the desk and into a well-appointed locker room. The attendant was setting out towels and body wash and shampoo and hung a cotton robe and pajama pants on a hook just inside a frosted glass door. "Here you are. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Barbara."

Barbara smiled and left.

All four of them looked at Reid, who stared back at them. "What?" Reid snapped.

"Time to take a shower."

He looked them up and down. "Um...with you watching? No."

One of them snickered. "Oh, kid, how did we amuse ourselves before you came?" Bell asked. "There's a changing room behind that door. Take the towels and stuff in with you and wash up."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You're not going to lunch with the Director after not having a shower since yesterday morning," Wallace said firmly. "Definitely not without a shave and not wearing those clothes. They look worse than if you slept in them, which we know you did. Do we have to call a couple of attendants to help you?"

Reid glared at them. "What are they going to do, force me into the shower and scrub me?"

"They have before. Just so you know, kid, all of the attendants here are female."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, snatched up the towels and toiletries, and stormed into the shower, slamming the door closed behind him and making sure it was fastened. He noticed that there wasn't a lock. Muttering under his breath, he undressed, hung up his clothes, and got in the shower. He scrubbed and washed his hair, rinsed off, and started drying off. He left the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips and reached for his clothes...wait a minute. "Hey! Where are my clothes?!"

"They're being washed," Jackson told him from the other side of the door. "Put on the robe and pajama pants. We've got slippers out here for you."

Reid pulled on the clothes and exited the changing room, his blood simmering. He pushed his feet into the slippers they handed him and looked them up and down. "I thought I was going to lunch with the Director-am I going dressed like this?"

"You need a little work done first," Jackson said, smiling. "Definitely a shave. Maybe a haircut."

His blood was boiling now. "You are _not_ cutting my hair."

"Well, we'll see what the stylist says. Come on."

Reid's blood continued boiling for the next hour. He was taken to the salon, put into a chair, and a stylist and his assistants descended on him like Valkyries. It was like being in a spa from Hades and he was given no say in what they were doing to him.

"I'm really not comfortable with this," Spencer complained as the Evil Four maneuvered him into a salon chair and a smock was wrapped around him.

"It's just a little touch-up, Dr. Reid," Wallace told him. "It'll go faster if you let them do their work."

It started with a shave. He was leaned back in the chair and a hot towel was applied to his face. Cleanser followed that, and another hot towel. After that was conditioner and yet another hot towel. The stylist applied heated shaving cream and began the shave. Once the shaving cream was gone his face was covered with another hot towel, followed by more shaving cream and another pass with the razor. The last bits of the shaving cream were wiped away and a cold towel was laid over his face. A bit of aftershave and he was finished.

Spencer was on the verge of getting out of the chair but the stylist held him in place with a hand on his shoulder, looking him over. "You need a trim."

"I don't need a haircut," Reid told him. "I'm going now."

"I didn't say a haircut; I said a _trim_ ," the stylist persisted. "It'll take just a minute since your hair's still damp from your shower." He looked at his two assistants. "Girls, could you start on his hands?"

Spencer turned his head to look the stylist in the eye. "What _about_ my hands?"

The stylist turned Reid's head back and picked up a comb. "Stay still, please. The more you hold still, the faster we're done."

Reid gave up. They stylist combed and snipped at his hair while the two assistants soaked his hands in bowls of water and began to trim and shape his nails. The stylist was combing his hair and applying a little spray wax just as his assistants were drying Reid's hands and massaging them. "I don't need a massage," he complained. He just wanted it to end.

"Almost done," one of the assistants soothed. "You just need buffing."

"No, I don't," Reid said, trying to get out of the chair. "Really, I'm done."

A hand came down on his shoulder. It was Bell. "Just sit there and stop causing problems, Dr. Reid. Wouldn't you get a little ticked if someone were refusing to let you do your job?"

He'd never had his nails buffed before, but they buffed them. The smock was pulled off him and he was brushed down to get rid of any stray hair and at long last, he was allowed out of the chair. He jumped out of it as if it were on fire and resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair. If he did, they might descend on him with combs.

"There, all better," Bell said with a smirk. "Come on, your clothes should be ready."

Spencer followed them without a word. He was led back to the locker room and there on a chair was a full set of clothes: khaki linen pants, white cotton shirt, tan leather shoes, socks, and underwear. "Where are my clothes?"

"Still being washed," Wallace said, as if pointing out the obvious. "Besides, you'd roast in that sweater and those pants you were wearing. Lunch is outside."

Reid grabbed the clothes and disappeared into a empty changing room to dress. The labels on the clothes were expensive-ruinously so. Who on earth had that kind of money? Telling himself not to think about it and what such a thing might mean, Spencer pulled on the clothes and shoes (Italian leather, no less! Rossi would have been pleased) and left the changing room.

"If you say there's something else we have to do before we meet the Director, I'm going to have a meltdown," he snapped as he rejoined his escorts. "I've been as patient as possible under the circumstances, and I want to meet the person responsible for this. _Now_."

"We're going there," Keller promised him. "Come on. You look good, by the way."

"I don't care," Reid sighed. "Let's go."

They took him back outside and to the car. Five minutes' drive took them to a large main building, a gorgeous place of white stucco with a red tile roof. They led him up the stairs and through an airy foyer, and out a side door into a garden. Next to a fountain a table was set up, and at the table was a man with silver hair, reading a newspaper. He looked up as they approached and smiled. "Ah, Dr. Reid! Welcome, welcome! So happy to meet you at last!" He got up and held his arms out as if offering a hug.

Reid stood there, glaring at him. "Are you the Director?"

"I am," he said, waving Reid to the chair across from him. "I hope you're hungry. Did you have a pleasant trip?"

Reid dropped into the chair. "You can drop the 'affable host' act," Reid snarled. "You had me kidnapped. I was abducted from my apartment and drugged, forced onto a plane, and I've been moved around and had things happen to me that I didn't want. I've been taken from my home and brought to this place and I do not intend to stay here."

The Director chuckled. "And how will you leave?"

"I'll find a way."

"No one's managed yet, so _if_ you manage it, I'll find you and congratulate you," the Director said, still with his affable air. "Ah, here's lunch. I hope you brought your appetite with you."

"I wasn't given the chance to pack it."

The Director chuckled again as a white-coated servitor served the meal. It was a formal place setting, Reid noticed. There was even champagne chilling in an ice bucket. The first course was a spinach and kale salad with raspberry vinaigrette and crumbled bleu cheese, as nice as any that could be had in any restaurant back home. Reid managed a few bites before he felt any more would choke him, so he sipped at his water. "Why did you order me brought here?"

"You've an IQ of 187, you've read countless books, and you hold three Phds and other degrees; surely you know you're quite talented," the Director said as the servitor took their salad plates away. Reid noticed that WBKJ had stayed and were hovering.

"Lots of people are smart and educated," Reid shot back. "What's so special about me?"

The Director leaned back in his chair smiled. "You've been through impossible situations and knotty problems, and you've always managed to make the impossible possible and unknot any problem. You're exactly the type of person I want for the Trust."

Reid was distracted as the servitor placed a plate in front of him. Pork loin with plum sauce, parsley potatoes, and asparagus. "I don't want to be in the Trust. I want to be back home working with the BAU."

"Out of the question," the Director said, picking up his knife and fork.

"Why?" Reid almost wailed.

"Because the BAU is far too dangerous. You've almost lost your life multiple times and it is clear that they can't protect you. You belong here, you are here now, so it's best if you accept it," the Director told him firmly. "In time, you'll come to see that I am right." He looked over at Reid. "A few bites of salad does not make a meal, Dr. Reid. I'm sure you're hungry."

"It's hard to have an appetite when you've been kidnapped," Reid muttered.

The Director ignored that. "Now, as to the rules."

"I won't obey them."

The Director looked him in the eye. "Don't confuse stubbornness with strength, Dr. Reid. It will avail you nothing. I would like you to be aware that any transgressions on your part will result in a punishment for someone else. The person receiving it will be chosen at random. Everyone is aware of this rule, so everyone trusts everyone else to obey the rules so no one suffers needlessly."

Reid surged to his feet. "That's sadistic! You can't punish people for things they haven't done just to hold everyone hostage to everyone else's good behavior!"

The Director gave him a smile as Jackson stepped forward and pushed down on Reid's shoulder to make him sit down. "It works, Dr. Reid. I've rarely had a problem." He took a bite of pork loin, chewed, and swallowed. "Your lunch will get cold if you don't eat it, and you will not leave this table until you do."

"I could stab you with a fork instead," Reid said thoughtfully.

"You shouldn't make such threats before you know what punishments are given in cases of transgressions," the Director said with a tight smile. "I could always order someone brought here so you can see."

Reid leaned back in his chair, his mind working furiously. There was too much he didn't know about this place and how it worked. "All right. I'll listen."

"Your first attempt to run from here will result in a week's confinement. So will any violent lashing-out. A second attempt to run will result in a week's confinement and a loss of credit for two weeks. A third attempt will result in a week's confinement, a loss of a month's credit, and a physical punishment, usually something...painful. In all the years of having the Trust, I've never had to order one. Make sure you're not the cause of one, all right?"

Reid's mouth and throat went dry and he reached for his water. He took several swallows and placed the glass back on the table. "Wouldn't it be more effective to punish the transgressor?"

The Director chuckled and shook his head. "Not at all. I've found this system to be _most_ effective. All of our Trust members are provided with credit every week. You can use your credit to purchase things in the campus exchange or an extra activity of your choice. The amount is contingent upon your good behavior."

"What constitutes good behavior?" Outwardly, he appeared calm, but inside...well, _panicked_ might have been a good word to describe how he was feeling.

"Finishing your meals, for one," the Director said, giving him a pointed look. "Attendance at meals is mandatory, and you do have to eat. Starving yourself will count as a transgression. Our nutritionists and cooks make sure that your meals are appealing and nourishing, so wasting their effort is not allowed. If we find that you are not eating, you will be confined the wellness center and your physician's care until you manage to eat on your own. We have had some members fed with feeding tubes and I can assure you that it is not a pleasant process."

Reid felt his throat go dry again, so he took another drink. He felt as if he were shaking, but when he looked, his hands were steady.

"Activities are required of you; if you are found sequestering yourself in your room, then it will count as a transgression. You are required to participate in at least one activity each morning and one each afternoon or evening. You may do more, of course, if you wish, but you won't be able to do anything until you're fed."

Spencer took the hint and picked up his knife and fork. His hands were still steady. "What activities?" He cut a morsel of the pork loin and ate it, and then he had to pause in surprise as the taste hit him. It was delicious and he took another bite with more enthusiasm.

The Director smiled. "There are a lot to choose from. For the first three months, all of the activities you'll have will be fun ones. There are classes for yoga, aerobics, pilates, dance, and other forms of exercise. You can enjoy the amenities at the wellness center, like a massage or hydrotherapy or a dose of pampering. There will be things like ball games and sports tournaments, and of course there's biking, swimming, hiking, and horseback riding. There are classes for different arts and crafts and music and so on. You'll have to visit the recreation center to get a full list of activities. If your physician suggests an activity, then you'll need to add that to your schedule as well. At the beginning of each week you're required to choose your activities and submit them to the recreation hall so we know where you are and what you're doing and when."

A feeling of unreality settled over Reid then. "This place sounds like a ritzy summer camp for adults. After my first three months, what then?"

"You'll be allowed to join work on different projects in the research center. There are a lot to choose from, but you'll be matched to the project you're best suited to, rather than you choosing the project. In the mornings and until three o'clock, you'll work on your assigned project, but after three you'll be able to work on any project of your own that you'd like."

Mechanically, Reid took another two bites of the pork and speared a potato with his fork. He didn't taste any of the pork or the potato he was chewing when the servitor handed a manila folder to the Director. He opened it and examined two sheets inside it.

"This is the report from your visit with Dr. White today," he told Reid. "He says that you're a bit underweight but otherwise in good health. He says that he suggested a few classes or even physical therapy to help you deal with tension, but that you seemed less than enthusiastic."

Reid snapped out of the fog he'd been in. "No, definitely not enthusiastic."

"Mens sana in corpore sano, Dr. Reid," the Director said with a smile. "I'm sure you'll see the benefit once you begin. I'll send a list of available options to your room and you'll be able to make your own choice in this matter." From the tone of his voice it was clear that it would be better for Reid if he did make the choice on his own. "So far, do you have any questions?"

Reid thought about it. He could learn a great deal if he asked questions, but he wanted to coax the Director into thinking he had him cowed a bit. "Um...a few…"

"Don't be so hesitant, dear boy," the Director encouraged him. "Ask as many as you like."

"When I'm not at an activity or working on a project, what am I allowed to do?"

"Your leisure time is yours to use as you see fit," the Director said. "You can spend time by yourself doing as you please using any of the facilities available or you can take part in any number of diversions."

"Diversions?"

"Yes, we offer plenty," the Director told him, watching Reid cut into his asparagus. "There are movies, plays, concerts, exhibitions, and other events you could attend. Once a month we host a dance and it's always well-attended. Later, after you've been here a few years, you can start to take part in day trips off-campus and after you've been here a decade you can go on some week-long excursions."

Reid almost choked. "A _decade_? How long are you planning on keeping me?"

"When you join the Trust, young man, it's for life."

A weird buzzing started in his ears and his vision grayed out. He wasn't sure if he was falling or floating, but vertigo hit, and then things went dark. Reid's last thought was, _I wonder what everyone else is doing right now._


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Penelope stared blearily at her screen and sighed. Whoever owned that airfield definitely knew how to hide. The airfield was owned by a private corporation and its owner was a man called John Clark. She checked, but the John Clark in the records had sprung into being only six months previously, along with the corporation. It looked like both had been created just to buy and build that airfield. Some gut instinct was telling her that such an action had to do with Reid, and that just made her feel sick and worried and scared all at once.

She'd tried tracking the money transactions involved in buying the land but so far her searches had reached a dead end. The money only went so far before it stopped-she'd managed to track it through no less than five accounts and nine dummy corporations before it just _vanished._ She'd been so frustrated and disappointed when that happened that she laid her head down on her desk and indulged in a few tears.

 _C'mon, Garcia,_ she said to herself after a few minutes. _Reid's counting on you. You can't let him down._ She pulled herself together and faced her screen again. The facial-recognition was still running in the background, so she checked it for the umpteenth time since yesterday. Still no matches. She began to sigh, and then stopped mid-sigh as an idea occurred to her. She and Reid had been talking about icebergs shortly before...well, before. He'd told her that the majority of icebergs existed underwater. Entire ecosystems existed under and around icebergs and most people never noticed. Well, if the majority of an iceberg could exist _underwater_ , perhaps an organization could exist _underground_. She'd seen plenty of them before, so why not the one that had taken Reid? She smiled and placed her hands on her keyboard.

It was time for her to dig.

* * *

Reid didn't know what happened when he passed out. It was almost pleasant, to be able to let go of the world like that and let his mind drift into unconsciousness, but slowly, he began to be aware of himself again. He became conscious that he existed and that something had been very wrong. His mind flinched away from that thought and latched on to the more comforting thought that he was alive, he had a body, and it was breathing. From breathing he became aware that he had a chest, neck, and head, and then arms and legs that were weighted down and immobile. His body was lying on something soft and warm and that thing supported him completely.

Hearing returned then. He could hear his own breathing, and there was a sound nearby. It was a soft sound, one that skirted the edges of his ears, and it was regular. Every other minute, there was the same sound. A new sound, of cloth against cloth and the slightest creak of wood brought him even closer to waking.

He fought against it, not wanting to leave the peaceful limbo he'd found himself in, but he could feel his body waking. His mind was waking up and with a jerk it snapped back into his body and his eyes opened.

Spencer blinked. He was staring at a cream-colored ceiling and at the periphery of his vision he could see a ceiling fan slowly turning, circulating the air in the room. The last thing he remembered...he'd been outside, hadn't he? When had he gone indoors? Wait a moment, who had he been talking to?

"Awake now, or are you sleeping with your eyes open?"

Spencer's head turned. There was a man with curly brown hair and a neatly-trimmed beard sitting in an easy chair nearby, holding a book and regarding him with a sardonic smile. The clothes he was wearing looked familiar, and it took Spencer a few minutes to realize that they were similar to what he'd been given to wear when he'd gone to lunch.

"I think I'm awake," Reid said, his dry throat making his voice croak. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"Both sensible questions," the man said, putting a book aside. Ah, that was one of the sounds Spencer had been hearing: turning pages. "You are in bed in your room and I am Sean Gallagher, the guide appointed by the Director to get you settled."

At the word Director everything rushed back to him and he felt a ball of ice settle into his stomach. "Where is he?"

"You've been out about an hour and a half. He had you brought here so you could rest," Sean told him. "He's probably in his quarters or in the research building. If you go a day without seeing him, then it's a good day. I think you surprised him when you passed out. Not very many people do that."

"I still don't know why I did it," Spencer admitted. "One second I was sitting there and the next…"

"You'll find no judgement from me," Sean said. "I was asked to sit with you. Feeling any better? Do you feel light-headed?"

"Yes, and no," Spencer answered, sitting up slowly. "I still feel like I should be waking up."

"From this nightmare? I know what you mean," Sean said thoughtfully. "How you're reacting is normal. It's a shock to be taken from your life and brought to a strange place and be told by a perfect stranger, 'This is your life now.'"

Spencer swung his legs over the side of the bed to face Sean. "Are you one of the prisoners or one of the jailers?"

Sean gave a mirthless laugh. "Can't you see the defeated look in my eyes? I was brought here five years ago. I was a chemist, then. Now I'm a member of the Trust." His voice was almost dripping with disdain.

"Sorry for being so suspicious."

"Don't be," Sean told him. "It's a good question to ask. Now, I do have to tell you that as a member of the Trust, you can earn points for doing good deeds, like being a Welcome Wagon for a new arrival. Earning points gets you an excursion off-campus and I desperately need to get out of here. Even if you don't need a person to welcome you and show you around, please indulge me. I won't get the points if I don't show you around and explain things."

"How would they know if you didn't?"

Sean rolled his eyes. "Good Lord, you're naive," he groaned. "There are cameras everywhere."

"Of course there are," Spencer muttered. He thought about Sean's position and nodded. He could afford to be kind. "All right. You show me around and if anybody asks, I'll say you're an excellent Welcome Wagon."

That won him a smile. "Okay. Your color's good, but stand up slowly, okay? I don't want you to pass out again."

Spencer did as instructed and he felt steady once he was on his feet. He pushed his feet into his shoes and combed his fingers through his hair. "Ready."

"Good," Sean said, standing and going to the dresser. He grabbed something on top of it and handed it to Reid. "Here you go."

The device looked like a Fitbit. "What is it?"

"That's your wristband," Sean said, showing him a similar one on his own wrist. "It locks and unlocks your room, signs you in to your activities and the cafeteria, and it carries your credit. You can also use it to check out books and materials from the library and to log computer time."

"Computer time?" Reid repeated, latching onto the words. "They let us go online here?"

"They have research databases," Sean clarified. "There are a few other sites that they allow, but there's no chance to log in to your social media or email."

Reid squashed his disappointment, but he felt as if he wanted to curl up on the bed and sob. There would be other chances later. There just had to be.

Sean led the way out of the room. "We're in Beech Cottage," Sean said as he turned left toward some stairs. "Everybody lives in the cottages and they're all named after trees, for some reason. Everyone has their own room and bathroom, and there's a balcony where you can sit and enjoy the view. Every cottage has a common living room and a kitchenette, where you can put together a late-night snack if you need one, but most meals are eaten at the lodge."

By this point they'd reached the bottom of the stairs and emerged into the living room. There were plenty of couches and chairs, a few coffee tables, and an entertainment center. Shelves held books and board games. With pleasure Spencer saw at least three chess sets. At Sean's encouragement he glanced into the kitchenette, which had a supply of fresh fruit, nuts, rolls, cookies, granola bars, refrigerated snacks like cheese, yogurt, and frozen treats (all healthy ones), as well as sports drinks, iced coffee, and bottled water.

"Always recycle the bottles and such," Sean advised him. "That's a rule. There'll be a book full of rules and advice in your room; you can peruse that at your leisure later. Come on."

Sean led him to through the front door and across a wide porch and down some stairs to a path. "You'll be able to see all the cottages if you stand here and turn in a circle. Most of them are at full capacity, but there are a few with empty rooms."

Spencer looked. There was Beech, Oak, Spruce, Dogwood, Aspen, Pine, Cedar, Chestnut, Elm, Walnut, Hawthorn, and Maple. "How many people in each cottage?"

"Eight to ten; it depends on the size of the cottage. During the summers in the evenings there are a lot of people who like to sit on the porches and chat or play games, and you're always welcome to join in if you want." Sean paused and sighed. "I sound like a bloody brochure."

"You sound like someone showing me around," Reid told him in an effort to propitiate him. "What's the next stop on our tour?"

"The bikes," Sean said, leading the way to a sheltered bike rack. "Your wristband unlocks a bike for you, just wave it over this panel here. We can ride these and I can show you the rest of the place. Some people prefer to walk, but bikes get you there faster. Another reason to take them is that there's a lot to see."

Spencer waved his hand in front of the panel and he heard a click as he saw a bike lean sideways in its port. Next to Sean he wheeled the bike out of the rack and onto the path. Once they were pedalling seemed an opportune time to talk. "So, you were a chemist?"

"Feels like an eternity ago," Sean admitted. "I don't really want to talk about it, though. Hard to think about. Okay, ahead on our right is the cafe. You can stop in there anytime for a drink and a snack and to spend time with people. You can use your credits to purchase things. Nice place to take a date."

Spencer screeched to a halt. "A _date_?"

"The Director encourages relationships," Sean told him. "He feels it helps us...settle down, and settle in. Some couples have even gotten married-no kids yet, but I think it'll just be a matter of time before we have our first Trust baby shower."

"Yeah, okay. Not happening."

"Just be forewarned; he's an inveterate matchmaker. There have been a few times when he invited me to have dinner with him and I found myself walking into a blind date."

Reid shuddered. "Duly noted." Then, an awful thought occurred to him. "Do you think he might try to do that with me?"

"It's likely, especially if you're a fighter. Try keeping your head down for the first few months and the likelihood of it happening will be less. It's the people who don't settle down right away and get combative that the Director concentrates on."

Spencer made a mental note to be very, very calm and collected whenever he was anywhere outside of his room.

They were coming to a place that Reid recognized: the Green. "So, this is the park?"

"Something like," Sean admitted. "It's more like a giant, outdoor living room and lounge. There are plenty of fountains, as you can see, and when the wind blows, the fountains help keep the area cool. There are benches, shady areas, chess tables, areas for picnics, two outdoor gyms, paths for walking or biking, rockeries for climbing, and an amphitheater. There are bulletin boards throughout the Green with a list of events you can expect. Want to see?"

"A Welcome Wagon would show me," Reid pointed out.

"There should be a board up ahead."

They found it. The announcements were locked behind glass, but they were perfectly readable. In two days there would be a string quartet playing, three days after that would be a performance of Shakespeare's The Tempest, and the following week after that would be a fireworks show. "Fireworks?" It was nowhere near a major holiday.

"Don't ask me why, but everybody here is ga-ga for fireworks," Sean explained. "The bigger and louder they are, the better we like them. Plus, a fireworks show is one of the few times you can stuff yourself with junk food and nobody gives you any trouble over it. You'll see."

Reid filed that information away for later. A fireworks show with its noise and distraction might be a good time to try slipping away.

Sean led the way to the far side of the Green, where the Main Square was. "Let's show you the campus exchange, shall we?"

"Why not?" Spencer replied.

They pulled up in front of a glass-fronted building and parked their bikes in a rack."There's a lot of bikes."

"Everybody uses them to get around," Sean told him as he opened the door. "Come on."

The phrase "campus exchange" had made Reid think of a college bookstore, but this was very different. Sean paused just inside the door so Reid could have a chance to look around, and what Reid saw surprised him. He'd been expecting items that were absolutely the bare minimum in what people would need, like toiletries and clothing, but these were all luxury items. Brand name clothing and shoes, old-fashioned film cameras and tape recorders, CDs, DVDs, expensive soaps and countless bath items, high-end stationery like notebooks, journals, sketchbooks and enough pens and pencils to stock a small specialty shop, and even gift baskets and boxes of gourmet foods and sweets. There was a section for magazines and newspapers, as well as all the current bestsellers in books. Nearest to Sean was a display of notions, like fidget spinners and squishies and brain teaser puzzles. Reid stared at the plenitude and he couldn't help breathing a slight, "Wow." He couldn't wrap his mind around it. "Why…? I mean, the Director, why would he…?"

Sean knew what Reid was struggling to ask. "He likes to keep us happy. One of the ways he does this is by giving us the chance to get things we like. Your credit should be on your wristband by now. Is there anything you'd like to get?"

"Not at the moment," Reid said, his mind still whirling a bit. "Let me think about it."

After the exchange Sean took him to the recreation hall. It reminded Reid of a university fitness center and then some. There were two Olympic-size swimming pools, enough fitness machines and weight machines to open two independent gyms, an indoor track, a rock-climbing wall, indoor tennis, volleyball, racquetball, and basketball courts, and classrooms for aerobics and specialty fitness classes.

"The wellness center has a few facilities for patients, but most people come here or outside in the Green to exercise," Sean explained. "This is just the first floor. Upstairs there's a dance studio, so if you choose to take dancing lessons, that's where you'll go. There's also a martial arts dojo and a fencing studio."

Reid did not work out, but the whole place looked like fun. It was busy, too: There were plenty of people using the machines, walking or running on the track, and he could see people in the pools.

"Now, did the Director tell you that you had to sign up for activities?"

That reminder brought him back to Earth with an unpleasant thump. "Yes, he did. Do I really have to?"

"One of the Director's precepts is that being social and mixing with others will help you settle in," Sean sighed. "Believe me, your life will be a lot easier if you just go along with it. If you try to isolate yourself…"

"I know, it'll be a transgression and someone else will be punished in my place," Reid muttered. He didn't want to think about that too much.

Sean nodded. "That's right, but I wanted to give you some food for thought. You're not the type of guy who would take this lying down, so I wanted to warn you. The Director and the people he employs, they have all the power. There was one person who persisted in isolating himself, despite other people first encouraging, and then ordering, and then exacting their own type of justice when that person refused to cooperate. When it became clear that nothing anyone did would make him comply, the Director took things one step further and had him admitted into his doctor's care at the wellness center." He paused and gave Reid an earnest look. "You don't want that to happen. _Trust_ me. We didn't see that man for twelve weeks, and when he was released, he was moved into the Director's home. We rarely see him, if ever. Don't be so stubborn that the Director makes you into the crazy man in the attic."

Reid wrestled with fear that threatened to crawl up his throat, but he nodded. "I understand."

"Now, back to those activities," Sean said, clapping him on the shoulder and leading him down the hall and around a corner into a room. "A list of available activities are kept in the office, here, and you just take a look at that list and tell the young man behind the desk what you'd like to do. He'll sign you up for them and you'll get your schedule."

It was a pleasant office, Reid reflected as the man behind the desk took his name and handed him the list. He settled onto the sofa to read it. The Director had said that he had to do at least one activity each morning and one each afternoon or evening, so he could...woah. There were a _lot_ to choose from. "Beachcombing is an activity?"

"We're surrounded by beaches on three sides," Sean reminded him.

A good number of the activities were ocean-related, Reid saw. Sailing, swimming, life-saving, tidepool ecology, specimen hunting, seashell collecting, tubing, snorkeling, sandcastle building, surfing… "Are there a lot of sea gulls on the beach?"

"It's a beach," Sean said, sounding confused. "What have you got against sea gulls?

"I'll tell you later." Spencer went back to reading the list. "Maybe my activities will be land-based, rather than beach-based." Hiking, rock-climbing, bushcraft, biking, horseback riding, swing dancing, cross training...um, no. He turned the page, a bit frustrated. There had to be something that he could do that wouldn't make him feel like a total klutz...wait a moment. Fiction writing, poetry recitation, foreign language study, mathematics symposium, Shakespeare, star-gazing, bird-watching, ecology walks, geocaching, pottery, basketry, woodshop, fabric arts, mosaics, sculpting, drawing; this was more his speed!

"Sir, I've checked your file and your doctor suggests a yoga or pilates class for you," the minion behind the desk told him. "You might want to schedule your required activity first and then schedule your other activities around it."

Annoyed, Reid scanned the list again and found a promising candidate. Beginning yoga. He'd seen plenty of people in parks and on television doing yoga and it didn't look too difficult. At the end of twenty minutes, he handed his list of chosen activities over, the minion entered them into the computer, and handed Reid a printed schedule. "There you are. Enjoy yourself, Dr. Reid."

Reid hoped his smile dripped with irony as they took their leave.

The rest of the tour passed in a bit of a blur for Reid. He saw the stables, the riding and hiking trails, the gardens ("Pleasant places to read," Sean had said), and the arts building, which was a bit more interesting. There was a full drama and concert theater, practice rooms, craft shops, art studios and galleries, rehearsal space, and classrooms. In one classroom Spencer caught a glimpse of a class of six working on bookbinding, which was one of the activities he'd signed up for later in the week. The place they went to next was the research center. He wasn't allowed into any of the labs or meeting rooms since he was still in his first three months, but the library was part of the research center, and he _was_ allowed to go there.

"Two floors, and 200,000 volumes," Sean said quietly and reverently. "The only limit to the number of items you can check out is how much you can carry."

Reid lost track of time then as he wandered the stacks, looking at all the books just waiting for him, and his excitement only grew when he found plenty of books that he'd _never read._ He started plucking books off the shelves with glee and reading them without bothering to find a chair.

A bell ringing overhead startled him out of his reverie and he looked around, still dazed by words. "What's that?"

Sean, sitting in a chair with a book of his own, set it aside. "That's the bell for dinner. In case you're curious, the Director will be there, and he'll notice if you're not. Come on."

With trepidation welling in him, Reid got to his feet and followed. He was not looking forward to this.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Hotch had fallen asleep in his office when Rossi knocked on his door, making him jerk awake and almost fall off the sofa. "What? What?"

"Good to see you got a little sleep," Rossi said, standing where Hotch could see him. "Morgan, JJ, and Emily all fell asleep at their desks about an hour ago."

"Any news yet?" Hotch asked, fighting to wake up.

"Penelope just buzzed me and asked that I gather everybody in the conference room," Rossi said, helping Aaron to his feet. "There will be coffee."

"Thank God," Aaron said as he pulled on his suit jacket. "Let's go."

They woke up their team members and everyone gathered in the conference room. Immediately everyone made a beeline for the coffee, and once fortified, they took their places at the table. Penelope joined them a moment later, with dark circles under her eyes and a worried expression on her face. "I've got...something," she said, sounding uncertain. "I don't know what it is, but it's something."

"Something's better than nothing," Hotch said as Penelope set up her laptop.

"Definitely more than what we had last night," Derek said, fighting off a yawn. "What've you got for us, baby girl?"

"Like I said, something," Penelope said, bringing up a photo of a teenage girl on the projection screen. "Reid and I were talking about icebergs before he...disappeared...and I got to thinking that maybe Reid's kidnapping is only the proverbial tip of the iceberg. I thought, what if it were something bigger? So I started digging and I found something really, really frightening.

"This is Mara Teller. She was fourteen at the time this photo was taken, a few months before her parents lost their lives in a car accident. Since she had no family willing to take her in, she was put into foster care. She'd been in a gifted program ever since she began school and she was actually on track to graduate early when she disappeared. There was a search, but people concluded that she ran away. She's eighteen now and there's been no sign of her for four years." She hit a button on the remote and the screen changed. "This is Sean Gallagher. Graduated early from high school, completed his bachelor's in two years, his master's in less time, and he finished two Phd's within five years, don't ask me how. He was employed as a chemist for a company on the west coast when he disappeared." The picture changed again. "This is Wendy O'Shanahan. The furthest she ever went in college was a bachelor's degree, but she's remarkable in the fact that she's a polymath, a polyglot, an award-winning writer of several articles and a popular book on botany, and a member of several...I suppose you could call them 'brainy' societies. She had a blog called _Smart Girl_ that had a good number of followers and she ran her own business in the Midwest, but she disappeared one morning on her way to her business. She never made it to the office. Her husband is still looking for her and her case is still open, but so far, bupkis. There are more examples, but I think you guys are starting to get the idea."

All of them stared from the screen to Penelope and back again.

Rossi was the first to speak. "Penelope, are you saying that whoever took Reid might have taken these people?"

"Just over fifty disappearances fit these parameters. All of them are very intelligent, and all of them just disappeared," she said, sounding scared for Reid. "I was doing searches on underground organizations and I came across a chat room for government conspiracies-don't ask me _how_ I got there-and one thread was discussing how all these smart people were disappearing. People on the thread were saying that the government was warehousing geniuses for dark purposes of their own, but one person said that it looked like someone was trying to build a 'brain trust.'"

"Kinda like FDR back in the thirties?" Emily asked.

"Kinda like," Rossi agreed.

"So, we're most likely looking at...an organization, or just one, very evil and organized person able to influence multiple people," Penelope continued. "The person or people responsible for kidnapping Reid probably have a whole lot of money and resources at their disposal."

"So, we have an organized serial kidnapper," Hotch said, thoughtfully, thinking of the photos and of Reid. "All the people taken are highly intelligent and...are they all experts in different fields?"

"That's right," Garcia confirmed, typing on her laptop. "There. All the information should be on your tablets."

JJ started reading and swiping. "Chemistry, aeronautics, biology, mathematics, nanotechnology, engineering, pharmaceuticals…"

"How did people miss this many...well, geniuses disappearing?" Emily wondered aloud, reading a file.

"We know enough to connect the dots and see the bigger picture," Hotch answered, getting to his feet. "Well done, Garcia. Get some rest; I can tell that you haven't slept, and we're going to need you at your best in the coming days. Everyone else, read through those files. We're going to talk to as many people as possible and try to establish some patterns. I'm going to go talk to our higher-ups."

* * *

Sean led him to the lodge, which was the place where meals were served and the dances held, he explained. "Anytime there's a big gathering, we're either at the amphitheater or in here," he said, leading the way through the front door. Directly inside the door on the wall was a panel. "Swipe your wristband here so the kitchen knows you're here and they can bring up your file."

Spencer swiped and followed Sean. "Why do they need my file?"

"Your doctor has submitted a nutritional plan for you to the kitchen, and they'll need that to make your meals."

"What if I don't like what they make?"

Sean led him through another set of doors and into a large room. "Don't worry; you get choices. I'll show you."

The dining room was a large, pleasant, and sunny room with tablecloth-covered tables and upholstered chairs. On three walls were fireplaces while the fourth wall was nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows. On each table was a tablet in a stand, silverware wrapped in cloth napkins, a pitcher of ice water, and glasses.

"You scan your wristband on the tablet," Sean said as he took a seat at a small table and scanned his wristband. Reid took a seat across from him. "Your file will come up, and you'll get a menu. Just choose what you want, and press the submit button, and a staff member will bring the meal out to you. At dinner you can get an appetizer and a main course with a side of fruit, or a main course with a dessert. What you choose to eat and how many calories and nutrients it has influences the other things you can get."

Spencer watched as Sean chose a grilled chicken salad with a baguette for dinner and a hot apple cobbler for dessert. "See? They'll bring it out in a few minutes. Go ahead and order yours."

"What does a meal like this usually cost?"

"All meals and snacks are provided for free," Sean said as Reid looked at the tablet at his menu. "You only have to pay for things at the cafe."

Reid didn't answer; he was too busy studying the menu. In the upper left-hand corner was his photo, and it looked like the one from his work ID. His name was next to the photo, as well as the date of his arrival. Underneath that were images of his choices. "Wow…You eat like this all the time?"

"There's a team of professional chefs in the kitchen, so yes. One day I would love to order everything on my menu just to see what they do, but the program won't let me."

"I have a friend who could probably hack it and rewrite it so you could," Spencer said thoughtfully, scrolling through options. Butternut squash ravioli, tomato bisque, roast turkey with dressing, herb-crusted prime rib, apple and barbeque spare ribs, spaghetti alla carbonara with chicken, mahi mahi kabobs, grilled salmon, pork chops with mushroom gravy...the options were limitless. At last, he found something that he felt he could stomach: chicken noodle soup. Once he selected it, four options for sides showed up, all of them vegetables, and he had to choose two. He tried selecting one and continuing, but the program wouldn't let him. The soup already had carrots, celery, and onions-couldn't that be enough vegetables? He picked two random ones and the program continued, where he could take his pick of rolls and spreads to eat with his soup, and at last, there were the desserts. He settled on a cinnamon streusel cake and to drink, he chose iced tea. He clicked 'submit' and set the tablet aside. "Do you order all meals like this?"

"All of them, except for brunch and dinner on Sunday. Sundays are a little different."

"What are they like?" Reid asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

"The Director says they're a day of rest, so we're allowed to rest. Your alarm doesn't go off and you can stay in bed if you like until brunch, which starts at quarter to ten and runs until one. At one-thirty we have something the Director calls 'Fellowship,' which is really listening to someone read from a religious text or philosophy and then it's discussed. The topic's usually something like 'virtue' or 'leading a moral life' or something similar. After Fellowship, we can do as we like for the rest of the day." Sean gave a small smile. "Sundays are my favorite day of the week. For brunch, the food's set out like a regular cafeteria, and you can pick and choose what you like, and you can go back as many times as you want. Dinner's just as informal. They don't count your calories and your nutrients on Sundays."

Reid sipped at his water. "You mentioned rules earlier. Could you give me a general idea of them?"

Sean appeared to gather his thoughts. "It would be best if you read the rule book in your room later, but I can tell you in a nutshell. Unless you're sick, you don't skip an activity or a meal. You don't go someplace that you're not allowed to go. You can't hole up in your room, as tempting as it may be. You don't go to an activity without being signed up for it, and you don't go to an activity when you're supposed to be somewhere else. Also, you don't go somewhere else, like the Green or the cafe if you're supposed to be at an activity. If you have an appointment, go to it. Don't try to run; you won't get far and you'll just get someone else in trouble. Keep your room neat and recycle any trash. Show up on time for activities and projects. You can't lash out and be violent, or someone else will be punished. You can shout and scream if you feel the need to, but only in a shrink's office or your bedroom-they don't want you upsetting other people. If you're restless at night, you can sit on your balcony or the front porch, but they really don't like it if you wander around outside of the cottages. No going to any of the facilities, the Green, or the beaches at night. Any questions?"

Reid thought about it. "Is there anything I should know about this place?"

"There's never been an escape, so I would suggest you accept being here." At Reid's face he continued. "I know, it sucks beyond belief, but adjusting to being here is hard enough. Refusing to accept being here makes it a lot harder, believe me. The sooner you accept being here, the easier it will be for you."

"I can't," Reid admitted right away. "My mom's...well, she depends on me. I write to her every day. I have to get back to her."

Sean shook his head. "She'll have to learn to get along without you."

Reid leaned back in his seat and fiddled with his silverware, his appetite gone. "She can't."

Sean gave him sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, kid. I really am. It sucks for you and your mom that this happened, but right now, there's not much you can do."

Reid thought about it. "I suppose."

Their food arrived then, carried by a waitress on a tray. Reid wished that he didn't have to eat, but he was sure that someone was watching to see if he did. He spooned up some soup and then, despite himself and his current mood, he smiled. "This is really good."

"The food's always good. I don't think I've ever had a bad meal," Sean told him, and then he leaned closer with a conspiratorial look in his eye. "Unless it's with the Director. Then, _everything_ stinks."

Reid couldn't help grinning. Feeling somewhat better, he managed most of the soup and bread, all the vegetables, and had started on his dessert when the Director showed up.

"There you are," the man said, approaching their table. "Has Dr. Gallagher been showing you around, Dr. Reid?"

Reid swallowed his present mouthful and took a sip of tea to wash it down. "Sean's been great. He's shown me practically everything and explained things when I asked. I kinda wish my orientation at college had been half as thorough."

It had been the right thing to say. "Well! I'm glad to hear that," the Director said, smiling. "I've come to invite you to take a walk with me this evening after you've finished dinner. I'd like to continue our conversation from earlier. What do you say, Dr. Reid?"

 _I'd rather drink hemlock,_ was on the tip of Reid's tongue, but his sense reasserted itself. "I'll be there. Where and when?"

"I'll be outside, in front of the lodge. Come out when you're ready." With that, he was gone.

Reid turned to Sean, feeling panic starting. "What do I do?"

"He gives everyone the same talk when they arrive, so I don't think you have to worry," Sean said, digging into his apple cobbler. "Just listen and be polite as long as you can until he walks you back to your cottage. Most likely he wants to tell you most of what I've already told you and that he's looking forward to having you here."

Reid squashed the last of his cake with his fork. "I'm not looking forward to being here."

After Sean showed Reid how to bus their table and where to take their dishes, Reid bid Sean goodbye and headed outside, where the Director found him with little trouble. "Ready for our walk?"

Reid nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"I'm sure several questions have occurred to you since your arrival earlier today," the Director said as he led Reid down the lodge stairs and onto the path. "I'll be happy to answer them."

Reid thought about it. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to this man for any length of time, but...Wait. The Director was inviting him to ask questions, which meant that he _wanted_ Reid to ask them. This might be important. "You said that you started the Trust to provide a supportive environment. What is it a supportive environment for?"

"For you and for others like you," the Director clarified. "The world is not kind to those who are gifted, Dr. Reid. It's rare that the gifted are appreciated and treated as they deserve. You can see this in schools nowadays, in cuts to gifted education and outright neglect of their needs. I believe when you were young you were just moved up several grades, isn't that right?"

"Acceleration is a commonly-used method of gifted education," Reid admitted.

"But not always appropriate, given individual circumstances," the Director told him. "Wouldn't it have been better if they had been able to educate you in a different way and in a more supportive environment?"

Reid shrugged. He'd been glad to go to school where the work had been somewhat more challenging, but he hadn't enjoyed his new peers all that much. "My situation was what it was, so I guess I never gave it much thought. We didn't have the money for a private school, and the public school system did the best it could. It really wasn't set up to accommodate the gifted all that much."

"But imagine if you'd been able to go to a school _made for you_ ," the Director said excitedly. "A facility made for you, an environment tailored to your needs, with resources and teachers that the public schools couldn't provide. What do you think you might have been able to accomplish if you'd had such things at your disposal? That's what I set up this campus for-for gifted individuals to reach their full potential, surrounded and supported by others like them. Here you'll be able to study things you wish to learn, teach others, and work with others like you."

"So, you're making...something like Plato's Academy here?"

"Something like," the Director agreed.

Reid's brain was working furiously. "You must have seen a great deal of potential wasted to go to this much trouble and expense to set this place up and bring people here."

"I did," the Director admitted. "It was heartbreaking."

That caught Reid's attention. _Heartbreaking_ was a strong word to use. There had to be a personal connection there. That was...interesting. "I can understand why you would want to help others, but I can't really stay here."

"Your work at the BAU is so pressing?"

Reid ignored the question and the patronizing tone in which it was asked. "Actually, I'm more concerned about my mother. If you know as much about me as I think you do, then you'll know that she's a paranoid schizophrenic in a psychiatric facility. I write to her every day and…" He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I know that there's only so much I can do to help her, but I like to think that my letters help ground her a bit more in reality. I can't…" He stopped and swallowed hard, hating that his voice was breaking. "I can't write to her here."

Saying it out loud did it. The next thing he knew, he was shaking and choking back tears. The Director looked startled when Reid dropped down to sit on the path, his arms around his knees, still fighting tears.

"Dr. Reid? Can you try to talk to me?"

Reid took a deep breath, but he sobbed instead of speaking. Another deep breath, and he managed to choke out, "She'll give up! She's already fighting so hard, and my disappearing will make it harder, and she'll give up!" Reid looked up at him, tears running down his face. He wasn't trying to control them now. "How can you be so _cruel_?"

To give the Director credit for being human, he had enough empathy to look abashed at Reid's outburst, as well as guilty. He crouched down next to Reid and put a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't bring you here to be cruel to you or your mother, Dr. Reid."

Reid finally located a handkerchief in his pocket. "It doesn't feel that way to me. How do you expect it'll feel to _her_ , if I just stop writing?"

Reid let himself cry-Morgan was right; those walls that he built up around himself needed to come down sometimes. Why not let the Director see the fallout of his orders? He could deal with an emoting FBI genius and see how much he liked it. Maybe he'd think better of his decision and send Reid home.

The Director pulled Reid to his feet and led him over to a bench, pushing down on his shoulder to make him sit down. "I was aware of your mother's condition and how often you wrote, but I was not aware of what purpose your letters served. I thought you were merely being a dutiful son."

"I was," Reid croaked, mopping his face and trying to take a deep breath.

"I will have to think about this," the Director told him, taking a seat next to him. "This is the first time communication served such a...vital purpose."

There was something Reid felt he wasn't seeing, but for the life of him, he couldn't see what it was.

The Director stood and faced Reid. "It's been a very long couple of days for you, Dr. Reid. I think it would be best if you retired now. I'll walk you back to Beech, and since it's a tradition of mine to see each of my new arrivals to bed the first night, you and I can talk a little more while you settle yourself for the night."

"You...want to…" Reid's mind stuttered to a halt. "You see new arrivals to bed?"

"Just the first night," the Director told him as Reid got to his feet. "I'm afraid you'll have to indulge me on this; I want to be sure each of my new arrivals settle in easily and are comfortable. Let's go."

The change from the considerate listener to the old imperious Director was too much for Reid to take. "Um...no. No, you're not going to do that tonight. I'm going to walk back to Beech by myself and I'll go to bed without you there."

The Director went very, very still. "Take a moment to think about what you just said, and then take another moment to think about your situation, and then think of something better to say. This will be your only chance, Spencer."

The Director's tone frightened him and he could tell right away he was walking a fine, fine line. He nodded, too afraid to look the man in the eye. "All right. I'll...I'll do as you say."

"I'm glad to see you can be reasonable."

As they walked, the Director asked him questions, mostly about what he thought of the campus, the amenities, the activities on offer, and so on. Reid did his best to answer civilly and it wasn't long before they arrived at the cottage. The Director led him inside, up the stairs, and to the door Reid had left behind a few hours ago. The panel outside the door where he was to swipe his wristband now had a placard above it reading, SPENCER REID.

Reid almost didn't recognize the room when they stepped inside. "Woah. What...happened?"

"Usually, your rooms are prepared for you while you're at lunch with me your first day since we're never one hundred percent certain quite when a new arrival will be here, but your fit of shock forestalled that. I had the staff take care of it all while you were on your tour with Dr. Gallagher. What do you think?"

What had been a bare, institutional room when he'd left was now warm and inviting. The furnishings and rugs were now in warm shades of brown and green, making him feel as if he were sheltered in a forest. The mantel over the fireplace was actually a log, and on it were ferns and succulents, lending the forest theme a little more life. It actually felt cozy. Shelves had been brought in and filled with copies of his favorite books, and colorful prints of nature scenes like wildflowers and waterfalls had been hung on the walls. Altogether, the effect was calming and he found himself liking it better the more he looked around.

There was a sitting area just as one entered the room, with a sofa, two easy chairs, and a coffee table. Lamps on either end of the sofa provided perfect spots to sit and read. A table and chairs beyond them to the right in front of a bookcase would make a perfect place to spread out and work on a project. The room had been divided by a low bookcase behind the sofa, and that area was the bedroom, complete with a dresser and wardrobe, which had been left standing open to display the new clothes that hung there. The bed had been turned down for him and a set of nightclothes had been left out on the pillow.

 _I guess that's my cue,_ Reid thought, spotting the pajamas, and he yawned. The Director was right; it had been a long and very tiring couple of days.

"Go ahead and get yourself ready for bed," the Director told him. "I'll wait here."

Reid did a tired double-take. "I wasn't going to ask for your help. I'll be just a minute." He didn't care that this guy felt the need to tuck him in or whatever he was going to do; he needed to sleep, and if he needed to go along with this nutcase to get into that bed faster, he was going to do it. All of the stress he'd been battling and all the emoting he'd been doing had wrung him dry. He picked up the pajamas and headed into the bathroom. Once there, he took care of the needful, brushed his teeth, and changed into the pajamas. He found the hamper with little trouble and dropped his clothes into it and left the bathroom, making a very short and determined beeline for the bed. Reid dropped into the sweet embrace of blankets and pillows and sighed.

The Director took a seat in a chair near the bed, where Sean had sat when Reid had last been in that bed. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I'm glad. I'm going to promise you, Dr. Reid, that I will give some serious thought to your situation and your circumstances, but I would like you to do something for me."

Reid cracked one eye open. Why couldn't he just shut up and let him sleep? "What?"

"Don't fret about your situation and try to have some fun," the Director said. "Let me do the worrying, all right?"

"Right now, I don't even have the energy to worry about why I'm not more worried," Reid confessed. "Why am I so tired? Was there something in the food?"

"No, this is the reaction to a great deal of change and stress; it's perfectly normal. Settle yourself, and I'll read to you until you drop off, all right?"

"Mmmnn."

Reid barely heard the first stanza of a poem by a Romantic poet before he fell asleep.

Author's Note: Okay, this evil little plot bunny has taken over my life and become Rabbit-zilla. I TRIED working on some of my other stories, but this one was clamoring to be written. I hope this will pacify the rabid plot rabbit and I'll get some peace but there's still a part of me in doubt. Someone help me.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hotch was in his office, pacing and trying to think. He'd informed their higher-ups of the situation regarding Reid and had been told that the BAU only had so long to devote to the case, but he was reminded that more people than Reid needed their services. Aaron had pointed out that it was bad when someone kidnapped an FBI agent and even worse when they didn't know why, and he had also reminded them of the massive asset Reid was, but they had been adamant: The BAU had only so long to find Reid before they had to end the search and continue on without him.

Sometimes, Hotch hated their higher-ups.

His team did _not_ take it well when he told them. Not one person looked ready to accept their decision and more than one person looked ready to go hunting some higher-ups, but Hotch had reminded them that they _did_ have some time and that they _had_ to make the best use of it they could. He could see their anger subside as they decided not to waste time being angry, but he could tell that the anger was still simmering under the surface.

"I'm still _pissed_ ," Rossi muttered as he settled at the table in the conference room and began to review the information they had. "That's why I'm going to channel that energy into finding these people, and then they will have Italian wrath raining down upon them."

"They'll have so much wrath raining down upon them that they won't know what hit them," Penelope said savagely. "I've been looking at different networks and things and I figure that an operation as big as theirs with multiple kidnappings and evil minions to do the deed would have to have a good communications network…" She turned to Hotch and looked calm and determined. "I may have to do some...things...to find a way to locate them. Permission to do some things?"

"Permission granted," Hotch said quickly, with a smile. "Just be careful."

Penelope sighed and gave him a smile. "Always." She scurried away, her high heels clacking with determination.

The other members of his team threw themselves into work with the same determination as Penelope. JJ had her "feelers" out, corresponding with local and state law enforcement while Emily and Derek were checking stills from the footage of Reid, looking for any kind of leads. Rossi was deep in his files and at the moment he had his phone out and was texting.

Wait a minute.

"Who're you texting?"

"An old buddy of mine," Rossi told him as his phone chimed. "He's ultra-paranoid and it _kills_ me that he has a smartphone, but he keeps his ear to the ground regarding a lot of things. I figure he might have heard something."

Hotch looked at Rossi for a moment, suddenly worried. "He's not a conspiracy theorist, is he?"

"Hey, I wouldn't knock it," Rossi answered. "It's only a conspiracy if they're not out to get you."

Aaron nodded. "Right. What do you think he might know?"

"Hard to say," Rossi admitted. "But he's got eyes and ears everywhere, and they've all got eyes and ears in other places, so stands to reason that either he or someone he knows knows something about something, or they might have heard something, and so on. I'll know more when he texts me back."

"Keep me informed," Aaron said, opening the file they'd started on Reid, then a thought occurred to him. "Sounds like he could be quite the asset. Would he be open to being a consultant?"

"I'd have to convince him that it wasn't a plot," Rossi said, giving a rueful smile. "I can always ask, though." His phone chimed and he checked the screen. "He says he'll have to check with his buddies and then he'll text me back. I'll let him know that we'll wait."

"Thanks."

All of them were deep in their work when JJ joined them to report to Hotch. "Everyone I've spoken to has promised to keep their eyes open, and Reid's particulars have been shared far and wide with law enforcement and other FBI offices," she said, dropping into a chair. "I spoke to Daina Reid's psychiatric facility this morning and they said that there's been no call or anyone stopping by to visit, which made me think of something."

Hotch looked up from the file. "What is it?"

"Spence writes to his mom every day because he can't visit her very often. I think that Diana depends on those letters, and I think that Spence feels they help his mom deal with things," JJ confessed. "What I'm worried about is that suddenly no letters…"

Hotch realized what she was getting at. "Ah. Has the facility said anything about her condition?"

"The word they used was 'twitchy,' but I think it means she's on edge," JJ said, fiddling with a pen in her hands. "She's probably realized by now that something's wrong since she hasn't gotten any letters. I know that Spence will move heaven and earth when it comes to his mom, and I think it's likely that he will find some way to get a message to her. Our first clue as to where Spence might be may come through his mom, but she may not recognize it for what it is when she gets it. I've already asked the facility to monitor her communications, but I have no idea if she might have received something before now."

Hotch looked JJ in the eyes and tried to sound reassuring. "I doubt that they'll be in a hurry to let Reid communicate with anyone. The fact that we've not received any ransom demand and that his kidnapping matches others with no ransom demand means that they're interested in Reid and in what he can do. They're going to keep him alive, which gives us time to find him. That's the thought I'm going to hold onto."

He saw a bit of relief suffuse her. "Right."

She returned to her work and Aaron watched her go. He just wished that sometimes someone could reassure him that everything would be all right, rather than being the one doing the reassuring. Sometimes being team leader sucked.

* * *

Chimes broke into Reid's dreams and made him jerk awake. That was weird. His alarm clock sounded completely different. What…?

He lifted his head from the pillow and as soon as he took in his surroundings the events of the past few days rushed back to him. Of course. He was here at the Trust campus and not at home. He dropped back into the pillows behind his head with a groan. The chimes repeated, a little louder this time, and muttering under his breath, Reid made a quick hunt for the clock. He located it on a shelf on the far side of the room and he smacked it until it shut up.

He debated crawling back into bed, but his attention was drawn to an envelope sitting next to the clock reading _Dr. Reid._ With some trepidation, Reid opened the letter and removed the single sheet in the envelope.

 _Dear Dr. Reid,_ the letter read.

 _Due to our rocky start yesterday, I decided to leave this letter for you and let you rest rather than overwhelming you with information when you were so tired. In the drawer of your bedside table is a book of rules and advice for you. Please make sure to read it before you head to breakfast. There is also a map of the campus and floor plans for each building, should you need them. I took the liberty of perusing your schedule and saw that you have a yoga class this morning at nine-thirty. Your locker should be stocked for you at the recreation center, and if you find you need anything, you need only ask your instructor for it. Your locker will be stocked for other classes as you sign up for them. There is a similar locker for you in the arts building. I would like you to avail yourself of all the amenities we offer and enjoy yourself. After working for the BAU for as long as you have, there is no doubt that you have earned a rest! I will be unavailable for the next few days as I am engaged in a project, but I should be available in a week. If it is acceptable to you, I would like to invite you to dinner with me at seven o'clock one week from today. You and I can touch base and discuss your situation. Until then, please enjoy yourself and have fun._

 _The Director_

Fury washed over him. A _week_? Reid couldn't believe it. This guy had the temerity to kidnap him and tell him that he was now in this prison for the rest of his life and then he was suddenly _unavailable_? Sean had said the day before that any day you didn't see the Director was a good day, but Reid wanted him to be available so he could do what Morgan called "work on the perp." It was where you wore the perpetrator down through being a broken record, over and over and over again until they broke. Reid wanted to plague the Director with the idea of his going home until the Director gave in. He wanted to lay siege to the Director and not let up until the big jerk gave in.

Was it a childish plan? Of course it was. The Director _deserved_ to suffer. If it got Reid a little closer to going home in addition to annoying the Director, then so much the better. Reid wanted the Director to be just as miserable as he was.

As he stood there looking over the letter, common sense reasserted itself. This man had been doing this for a long time, and it was likely that others had probably already tried all the tricks Reid knew. Any attempts at this point would probably just serve to wear Reid out, rather than the Director. No, he would have to play a more subtle game if he wanted to get out of there. Plus, Sean had cautioned him about how the Director liked to encourage you to settle in if you made trouble. No, he would have to be careful, which precluded an all-out annoyance assault.

Feeling as if his brain were finally working, Reid pulled out the rule book and the maps and studied them. The rules were much as Sean had told him, and the maps helped him to orient himself and everything he'd seen the day before. There were areas on the maps marked red, which the legend declared were "off-limits" to residents. The buildings marked on them looked kind of like utilities facilities, perhaps a power grid and water treatment center. Not much reason to go there. Other places, though, were not as straightforward. He would have to keep his eyes and ears open and try to learn a bit more about those places. The residents might be in a closed community, but that didn't mean that there weren't ways to communicate with the wider world in the off-limits areas. It was interesting to note that the house where Reid had lunch with the Director the day before was marked as "Invitation Only."

There was more information in the book, as well. Meal times were listed, and confusingly, on another page there was information on where to find his mailbox. A mailbox? According to the information listed under his mailbox number, he would receive notifications about doctors' appointments and wellness center-related activities, any notices about his activities, communiques from the Director if necessary, and the campus newsletter. Reid snorted. Of course there would be a campus newsletter. Oh, joy. On the next page there was a list of major holidays and community-specific "holidays" for the residents. As he read the list he found a smile starting. There was "May Day" and "Camp-out Weekend" and "Carnival" and even, much to his chagrin, "Surf and Sun Day," which he was sure meant that there would be something held on the beach. He really didn't relish the thought of walking around on sand contaminated by seagull droppings, so perhaps he could arrange to be elsewhere on that day. Other days, though, seemed more promising, like "Renaissance Faire Day" and "Pop Culture Convention Day." For a moment, he just had to digest and absorb that bit of information. That sounded like...well, fun! If there was a place for _Doctor Who_ fans on that day, he would be there. He checked the date and sighed. Three months from now. He didn't want to think he would still be there then and he fervently hoped that he wouldn't be. He couldn't believe that he'd been looking forward to an event that was being held in a place that amounted to no more than a fancy prison. He'd definitely need to get his head examined once he got back home.

He tucked everything back into the drawer where he'd found it, located some clothes in the wardrobe and dresser, and went into the bathroom. He showered, shaved, dried off, dressed, and re-emerged feeling much more human. He examined himself in the full-length mirror on the wall near the bed, feeling as if the person staring back at him were not quite "Spencer." He certainly wasn't dressed the same. Who on earth had enough money to buy each person he kidnapped a wardrobe that contained Burberry and Ralph Lauren clothing and Gucci shoes? It made him miss his slacks, button-downs, sweaters, and sneakers. The only thing he'd brought with him from home aside from his clothes (which he had yet to get back) was his watch.

Remembering Sean's advice about keeping his room neat he made his bed, located his schedule, and left his room, making sure to swipe his armband as he left to lock the door. He headed downstairs and outside, glad that no one was around. He'd yet to meet any of his housemates and he really didn't feel like being social. He was dreading even more the personal questions they'd use to make conversation: where was he from, what he'd done, and so forth. Maybe Sean had the right idea about avoiding talking about it. Just thinking about his life back home made his chest ache.

It was a gorgeous morning, the air warm already but not hot. He could see the sun just a bit above the horizon, reflecting off the water in the distance. It was a gorgeous sight. He debated taking a bike but decided to walk so he could look around a bit. There were flower beds and shrubs along the path, and trees in clusters. Reid noticed that any benches were always in the shade from the trees. There were cypress and maple trees, and he could see a few palm trees, as well as the sprawling oaks that the American south was noted for. A stand of magnolia trees nearly knocked him over with their scent. The more he looked, the more plants he noticed: hibiscus, saw palmetto, yucca, columbine, coral honeysuckle, resurrection fern...hmm. Definitely somewhere south of D.C., but the big question was how far? Could he be in Louisiana or Florida? He stopped dead on the path when the thought that he might have been taken outside of the United States altogether occurred to him. That would make his chances of getting back home easily a lot slimmer.

Firmly telling himself to think about it _later_ , Reid pressed on until he reached the lodge. The smell of bacon made his mouth water and his stomach growled. For the first time since arriving there, he was actually hungry enough to be looking forward to food. He hurried up the steps and into the lodge just as a staff member was unlocking the doors.

"Morning," the guy said, giving Reid a smile. "Here for breakfast?"

Reid checked his watch. "Sorry, am I too early?" Breakfast started at seven.

"People usually are about fifteen to twenty minutes later, but you're right on time. Would you like coffee, tea, or something else?"

"Coffee," Spencer breathed, feeling his entire being crying out for it. Before he'd been snatched he'd been trying to cut back a bit since coffee could contribute to headaches and anxiety, but right now, he felt the need for a nice, comforting cup of coffee.

The guy grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Okay, I'll go get the coffee bar heated up. It should take just a few minutes."

It wasn't long before the heavenly aroma hit him and he was able to pour himself a large cup of freshly roasted and ground heavenly ambrosia. He added his usual amount of sugar and sipped at the resulting brew and sighed. Immediately he felt a bit more like himself. He took a seat at a nearby table and scanned his wristband to bring up his menu. He spent a few leisurely minutes swiping through the options available to him and settled on a bacon and mushroom omelet with whole wheat toast and a tropical fruit salad.

The same staff member brought his breakfast for him and Reid unfurled a napkin and laid it in his lap. "That looks incredible," Reid breathed as he stared at the plate.

The man grinned. "Hungry, huh?"

"Very," Reid confessed. "This is the first time since arriving here that I've been really hungry."

"Thought you were new," the man said. He looked past Reid to the tablet. "Dr. Spencer Reid, huh? What are you a doctor of?"

"Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering."

The guy stared. "Wow. That's impressive."

Reid shrugged. "I read a lot when I was a kid. What's your name?"

"Rob."

Reid held out his hand. "Reid."

Rob shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you." He leaned forward and lowered his voice a bit. "So, what do you think of the Trust so far?"

Reid doubted he could really be honest with a staff member. For all he knew, they all had orders to report anything and everything that any of the residents said or did. "Truthfully, I've never imagined a place like it. The last few days have been...interesting."

Rob nodded. "Is today your first full day here?"

"Yep," Spencer said, thinking about the long day ahead. How was he going to get through it?

"Well, welcome, and have fun," Rob said. "If you'd like anything else, just dial it up, okay? I'll see you around. Enjoy your breakfast."

"Thanks," Reid said as Rob headed off. He tucked into the omelette and was just savoring the combination of bacon and mushrooms and cheese when Sean showed up. "Oh, hi. Morning."

"Morning," Sean answered. "Would you mind company for breakfast?"

"Not at all," Reid said, offering the chair across from him. "It's nice to see someone I know."

Sean ordered his breakfast and then got himself a cup of coffee. "Mmm. Thank God for coffee."

"Amen," Reid joked.

"How'd you pass your first night?"

"The Director read to me until I fell asleep-and it didn't take long-and left me a letter with all the things he didn't get a chance to tell me," Reid said before taking a bite of toast.

"And what's your schedule like today?"

Reid pulled out his schedule and checked it. "I've got beginning yoga this morning, and after lunch I have a class called 'Creative Crafting' and this evening after dinner I have the first class for a week-long baking class."

Sean nodded. "It's good if you keep yourself busy. I know why you had to sign up for the yoga, but why the other two activities?"

Reid looked at the schedule. "The first I just kind of chose at random and the second...well, sweets can be nice. I figured it would be something to do."

"I thought you'd sign up for something like dance; you've got a good build for it."

Reid stared at him. "Ahh...no. That wouldn't be a good idea. My coordination is extremely lacking. Do you know what my mom nicknamed me as a kid?"

"What?"

"Crash. I was so clumsy I kept crashing into things."

Sean laughed so much he had tears in his eyes, and by that time a server had brought him his breakfast. He and Reid chatted lightly while they ate and lingered over a second cup of coffee together. Sean asked what Reid had studied in school and when Sean learned they had chemistry in common they spent a good long time talking about it. When they checked the time it was nine o'clock and they both had to head off to where they were supposed to be.

"Want to meet up for lunch?" Sean offered. "There are a few people I'd like to introduce you to. I think you'd like them."

Reid nodded. He already liked Sean, despite the man's prickly nature. "Sounds great."

They settled on a time and both of them got bikes and biked off to where they were supposed to be, which was the research center for Sean and the rec center for Reid. He locked the bike into a port and headed inside, where a sign led him to the locker room. Lockers were arranged alphabetically and unlocked with their wristbands. Reid located his and changed into the clothes waiting there. He had yoga pants and a tank top and slippers to wear from his locker to the studio. Aside from the clothes there was a yoga mat, resistance bands, foam blocks and rollers...would he need all of that?

"You look perplexed," a guy down the row from Reid said.

"Yeah, I'm signed up for beginning yoga, but I have no idea what equipment I need to take with me," Reid said.

"Just the mat," the man told him, pulling a mat from his own locker. "I'm taking the class, too. I take it you're new here?"

Reid sighed. "Yep."

"Thought so. You've got that desperate, trying-to-hold-it-together-but-I-really-want-to-scream look. The panicky feeling will fade with time."

"How long have you been here?"

"Seven months."

"Has it faded yet?"

He gave Reid a rueful smile. "Mostly. As long as I don't think about things, I do okay. If you're looking for advice, do the same. Don't think about home or your family or friends and you'll manage to get through the days. Try to tire yourself out so you'll sleep at night, and then you'll only have the days to worry about."

Reid's smile matched his. "I see. What's your name?"

"Eric."

"Reid."

"Nice to meet you, Reid, but I wish the circumstances were better. We'll be late if we wait around any longer."

Eric and Reid joined the others in the yoga studio and what followed was a difficult span of time as Reid tried to follow along with the class and do the movements and poses. The instructor was continually correcting his position and posture and breathing until Reid felt ready to kick her in the head. _Why_ had he been forced to sign up for this torture?

At long last, the class ended, and Reid dropped onto his mat with a relieved sigh. He couldn't believe that he had to come back and do this again the next day! Thoughts of playing hooky ran through his head-would they believe he was sick if he faked it? A major upheaval could make someone feel pretty sick…

"You gonna live?"

Reid opened his eyes and stared up at a grinning Eric. "How about you dig a hole and bury me right here so the question's answered?"

Eric chuckled and helped Reid to his feet. Reid had a quick wash in the locker room and changed back into his clothes, his muscles screaming at him that they would enact vengeance for what he'd just put them through.

"I'll see you here tomorrow," Eric said as they parted ways at the door.

"If we're both lucky," Reid said, wincing. "Oh, I hurt."

"Spent a lot of time at a desk, did you?"

"It's where I do a lot of my best work."

Reid watched Eric go and then headed to the bike rack, intent on a little time in that library. First, he stopped at the campus exchange-he'd thought of something he needed and he would have an easier time at the library if he got it.

The clerk at the campus exchange was helpful when Reid asked her how he could tell how much credit he had, and with a scan of his wristband she was able to tell him. "Five hundred?" he echoed when she told him. "That's an awful lot."

"It goes up when you start working on projects," she said. "Now, what can I help you find today?"

"I need a bag-like a messenger bag or a backpack? Something to carry books in."

She grinned at him. "We've got plenty. They're at the back. If you don't see what you want, let me know and I can look in the inventory."

Reid located the bags and selected a stout, leather backpack with double-stitched seams. He also stopped in the stationery area and selected two notebooks, a journal, and some pens and mechanical pencils. He thanked the clerk again and headed to the library, where he spent a happy hour and a half looking through the books and selecting some to check out. He'd missed reading the past few days, and he felt a tiny bit better with a bag of books slung over his shoulder. Reid checked the time and smiled. It was time to go meet Sean and his friends for lunch. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to ask questions and learn enough about this place so he could figure out a way to leave.

A/N: I'm being held hostage by a fan fiction. Someone send help.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Reid found Sean and his friends almost as soon as he entered the dining hall. "Reid! Over here!" Sean called, waving his arm so Spencer could see him. The place was much more crowded than it had been at breakfast, so Reid wove his way through the crowd to Sean's table.

"Everyone, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, newly arrived," Sean said by way of introduction. "Reid, these are my fellow exiles: Wendy O'Shanahan, Louis Dubois, and Michael Watkins."

Everyone greeted Reid and Louis ushered Reid into the chair next to him. "Hello," Louis said as Reid settled in. "How are you finding our little prison in paradise?"

Reid fought down a smile. "Exactly that, a prison in paradise. Do you think there's any chance at parole?"

Michael gave an acerbic laugh and rapped the table with his hand. "Ha! You've got a snowball's chance, kid."

Reid shrugged and took the tablet that Sean handed him. "Thought I'd ask."

"Go ahead and order, and we'll chat until the food comes," Sean said.

Reid scanned his wristband and scrolled through his menu. The lunch options were pretty nice and he felt his stomach sit up and take notice. He could take his pick from wraps, salads, soups, sandwiches, and a few small, hot dishes, like pasta with vegetables or chicken and vegetable potstickers. Reid settled on half of a chicken and spinach wrap and a bowl of broccoli cheddar soup. Once he'd made that selection, things like cakes and cookies and ice cream disappeared and he was left with a fresh fruit bowl, strawberry and orange salad, or frozen yogurt. He opted for the fresh fruit and set the tablet aside. "If I had to pick one good thing about this place, I'd have to say it's the food," he said. "Meals are always like this?"

"That they are," Wendy confirmed. "We have very healthy meals every day, and even the comfort food is healthy! No more triple-cheese macaroni and cheese for me! Since arriving here I've lost a lot of weight-my husband wouldn't recognize me."

Reid blinked, a bit surprised and more than a little sorry for her. Everyone here had been taken away from their loved ones, and it just wasn't fair. "You have a husband?"

She nodded and grinned. "I feel sorry for the Director if Charlie ever gets a hold of him, and I hope I'm there to see it!"

"Dear lady, you should sell tickets!" Louis said brightly after taking a sip of water. "Just promise me that we'll all get front-row seats!"

Reid glanced at Louis. He liked how this man thought. "What if we live-streamed it?"

Louis did a double take and his smile became a bit more malicious. "Oh-ho, _yes_! Sean, I like this guy! I'm surrounded by handsome and intelligent men and one lovely, charming lady! I'm in heaven!"

Reid blushed. He'd had a feeling that Louis was homosexual, but the look he was giving Spencer was like having it confirmed by a brass band and fireworks.

"Louis, you're in heaven no matter who you're with," Sean said, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, man."

"Sorry, I can't help myself," Louis responded. "Beauty is meant to be appreciated and life is meant to be _lived_ , my friend."

"You don't live it; you debauch yourself with it," Michael pointed out. "Remember last Carnival? I couldn't believe you had the stamina for all the...fun...you had."

"Oh, Mikey, just think of the origin of the word 'carnival' and you'll know _why_ I had to have so much fun," Louis sighed. He turned to Spencer. "Wait until you see Carnival! You'll have so much fun! Ever been to Mardi Gras? Do you like dressing up in costumes?"

"I like Halloween," Spencer admitted, trying to keep up with Louis's rapid-fire conversation. "I'll dress up for that, and for conventions."

Louis patted him on the shoulder. "You'll fit in just fine, Spencer."

"I hope that I'm gone before then," Spencer said quietly. "I don't want to stay here."

Sean looked over. "You're going to struggle with that feeling for a long time, but it won't do you any good to dwell on it. Like I told you, nobody's managed to get away."

"Has anyone come close?"

Reid would have had to be an idiot to miss the glances they exchanged. Louis began to fiddle with this silverware. "Umm…."

Reid's head whipped around to stare at him. "Was it you?"

Louis's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "Me? Oh, no. No, no, _no_. The only way I'm leaving this place is in a car, the plane, or on a boat! The one time I took a walk past the boundaries, I nearly stepped on a cottonmouth! No way in hell am I trying that again!"

Reid thought about the snakes around Las Vegas and shuddered. "Are there a lot of snakes around here?"

"There's at least one, which is more than enough to keep me away from the wilds," Louis said firmly. "To return to your question, the Director's special guest came pretty darn close. He was gone eight hours before they brought him back."

Reid blinked, confused. "Special guest?"

"Remember my telling you about the crazy man in the attic?" Sean asked.

"That was him?"

"That was him."

Their meals arrived then and everyone seemed to be keeping the conversation light deliberately after that. Of course, "light" was a relative term when it came to Reid and others with whom he shared certain characteristics. It wasn't long before they were deep in a discussion of the number phi and fractals that were based upon it. Reid ate, he chatted, and he felt as if he could keep talking all day, and even better, people were _listening_ to him! So many times when he started talking about mathematics or his other fields of study with his coworkers he got a blank stare or a quizzical look. Being able to talk to people who understood what he was talking about and were as actually as enthusiastic about the topic as he was was incredible!

"You look like you're very happy with that bowl of fruit," Wendy teased him as Spencer started on his dessert.

Reid shook his head. "No, it's just nice to be able to talk to people about these things. I don't have many chances to do so outside of conferences or lectures."

Louis patted him on the shoulder. "We've all been there, sweetie. Whenever I tried to discuss geology or ornithology or ecology when I was younger, my parents would just look at me blankly and sigh. Mother wanted a lawyer, Dad wanted an athlete, and they ended up with me."

Wendy chuckled. "How _did_ they get so lucky?"

Louis smiled and batted his eyelashes at her. "You flatterer, you! The answer to that...well, only God knows. I try to be humble about it."

Everybody started laughing then, Michael even pounding the table while wheezing. They kept chatting while they bussed their table and headed outside.

"What've you got next, kid?" Michael asked as they headed to the bike racks.

"Creative Crafting."

Michael's entire face lit up. "I _love_ that class! I take it whenever I can!"

"I picked it at random, so I didn't read the description. What kind of class is it?"

"Think of it as an arts and crafts free-for-all. Each session you're taught how to do a different project using different materials and techniques. It's a great way to unwind."

"What kind of projects did you do?"

Louis guffawed and unlocked a bike. "Dear boy, what _didn't_ he do? He made a stained-glass window, he built a wicker chair, he made a mosaic...the only thing he refused to do was take my requests when they worked with leather."

"With good reason," Michael said quickly.

"All I wanted was a pair of pants!"

"A pair of pants with a padded codpiece and all of it made out of buff-colored leather."

Louis smiled. "They were for a costume, and I feel I would have looked magnificent."

"Uh-huh. Why didn't you make them yourself?"

"Because I'm awful with anything to do with fabric or fibers. I am not any kind of tailor, but you do lovely work."

"Flattery's not going to get you that pair of pants, Louis."

Spencer was laughing under his breath and trying to hide his grin. "Are you two always like this?"

"Oh, all the time," Wendy said, unlocking a bike for herself. "It's very entertaining!"

They quickly made plans to meet up for dinner and they all headed their separate ways. Reid biked over to the arts center, located his locker, and found himself stuck once again by how much was in there. Drawing pads, pencils, charcoals, paints, palettes, brushes, canvas panels, a calligraphy set, bottles of ink, an apron and smock and other items stared out of the locker at him. What would he need? Sighing, Reid closed his locker and headed to the room designated for the class. If he needed something, he could always take the time to go and get it.

He entered the room and was assailed by a wall of scent. An older man with silver hair and a sunburned face was sitting at a worktable and looking over some papers. "Hi, there. Can I help you?"

"Ah, is this Creative Crafting?"

"That it is. I don't recognize you, so you must be the new student I was told I'm getting today. Dr. Spencer Reid?"

"That's right," Reid said, heading for the nearest window and opening it a crack. "Hoo, that's strong. What's that smell?"

The man sniffed and shrugged. "Wood stain, maybe? I've been in here all day, so I'm probably used to it. We're going to be making wooden wall art today. It's why we're meeting in the woodshop."

Reid looked around at the worktables and had visions of severing an appendage. Suddenly, he wasn't sure about this class. Would the rec hall let him change to a different one? "Will I need anything from my locker?"

"Just an apron to protect your clothes from the stain and varnish. Go ahead and fetch it, and I'll get you settled at a table."

The teacher for the class was actually a resident, a physicist from Seattle called Hector Morales. This surprised Reid and he said so. "I didn't know that residents taught."

Hector gave a harsh laugh. "Of course we do! It's something for us to do when we have free time and it helps our fellow inmates by giving them something new to learn and something new to do. If you have a hobby or a specific field you enjoy teaching, you can offer to teach a class. Helps keep you from going nutty due to boredom when you're not working on a project."

Spencer examined some sawdust on the table. "I don't understand about these projects. Is it the Director that assigns them? Once they're completed, what does he use them for? If we are assigned one, can we refuse if we don't want to do it?"

"The Director assigns you to a project that he thinks would be a good fit for you. Sometimes you can go months between projects, so that's why he has so many activities for us. He keeps us busy so we don't have time to plot a way to leave. We don't know what happens once the project is finished, and I don't think anyone has ever refused a project. At least, I've never heard of anyone refusing." Hector paused and looked Reid up and down. "You haven't been here long at all, have you?"

Reid shook his head. "I arrived yesterday, and today's my first full day. Being here...it's not been easy."

"It gets easier," Hector offered. "It's never _easy_ , but it does get easier. Just focus on the present moment and you'll find things won't be so overwhelming."

Others were starting to arrive then, and Hector turned to greet them. There were four other students and they all took seats at the worktables. Hector explained what they were going to do, explained the techniques and materials they could use, and showed them some finished products. They had myriad pieces of wood in varying sizes to use, which had to be sanded and assembled in the design they chose. They then had to trace the design onto the assembled piece, stain the design, and then once the stain was dry, they would follow up with a sealer and varnish. After the varnish was dry, the completed piece would be ready. With the other students, Reid paged through the available designs and chose an outline map of the world for his piece. He spent the rest of the time sanding the scraps of wood he'd chosen and assembling the piece before tracing the design on the wood. He was using small boards of varying lengths to make a map with asymmetrical sides, but the image would be centered. If he used two shades of varnish he would have a piece with contrast that would match the color scheme in his room.

At the end of the class he bid Hector goodbye and put his project and apron away in his locker. There was a splash of varnish on the apron from somewhere, but Reid couldn't tell where it had come from. He left the arts center with his bag over his shoulder and biked toward the Green. He wanted to spend some time outdoors and do some reading and a little thinking. It would be dinner time soon, and he hadn't managed to work on an escape plan yet. He found that disturbing on quite a few levels. Escape should have been the thing he was thinking of the most, and here he was, almost the end of the first day and he hadn't even concocted an escape plan yet.

He'd just ported his bike when he heard someone behind him. He whipped around, ready to defend himself, and he froze when he saw an older man around the Director's age standing there.

"Didn't mean to startle you, youngster," he said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I was hoping to introduce myself and to see if you would be amenable to a game of chess."

Reid looked beyond the man and spotted Wallace, from WBKJ. "What's he doing here?"

The man glanced behind him. "Wallace? He follows me around like an arrant puppy whenever I'm out and about. I usually ignore him. Would his lurking bother you?"

Reid shrugged. "Not really. It's not like he can do anything to me now that I'm here." That wasn't strictly true and Reid knew it, but he wasn't going to think about it. Wallace would have no reason to do anything to Reid without the Director's say-so, and Reid intended to give him no chance for that.

The man gave Reid a warm smile and held out his hand. "Claudius."

Reid shook and felt his lips turn up into a smile. He didn't know why, but he liked this man. "Reid."

"Black or white, Reid?"

"Black."

Reid joined Claudius at his chess table and they spent a few minutes just making moves before Reid decided to ask the difficult questions. "I was curious…"

"About why Wallace follows me around?"

Reid looked up from the board. "Do you read minds?"

"No, I read expressions," Claudius said with a kind smile. "You're very good at hiding what you're thinking, but I've had plenty of practice at discerning what lies behind someone's eyes. Wallace follows me around whenever I'm out because I managed to escape once."

There it was. It was the word that had been percolating in Reid's head all day. Then his mind flashed back to what Sean and his friends had told him earlier. "You're that guy?"

Claudius grinned and moved a pawn. "I'm _that_ guy."

Spencer leaned forward and pretended to study the board. "How did you manage it?" he asked, his voice as low as possible.

"It's impossible by sea unless your boat has an engine, and even then, it's iffy," Claudius told him, waving his hand back and forth. "You won't be able to steal the plane, but thinking about it now, stowing away is possible, if very risky. They only land at private airstrips, so you'd have quite a distance to travel once the plane landed and you managed to slip away without being seen by anyone. Your best chance is to steal a maintenance jeep and head inland. That's what I did. The jeeps are built to go over rougher terrain and you're able to move faster than you would on foot. I was able to make it to the nearest town, but they caught up to me before I could find the police."

Reid thought about this, hope surging in his chest. "Why did you go off-road? Wouldn't the road have been faster?"

"There was a road to this place from the town back when it was a resort, but since the road was on land belonging to the resort, the Director had it torn up. The asphalt was carted away and the roadbed planted over."

Reid moved his rook. "That's...a bit extreme."

"The Director is a man of extreme personality," Claudius said, moving his bishop. "He's determined to keep us all here in a self-contained bubble, and he's managed it very well."

"What I don't get is why," Reid confessed, moving a knight. "Why is it so important to him?"

Claudius leaned back in his chair and thought. "He feels the world is cruel to its most intelligent and sensitive people and he feels that it is his duty to protect them and nurture them. I don't know for certain, but I feel something happened to someone he cared about, someone like us, and he made a vow to himself to protect others like that person."

"It must have been a pretty traumatic event to give him that kind of motivation."

"I think so," Claudius agreed. "He and I met by chance years ago, and we struck up a friendship. During the short course of that friendship he shared with me that I reminded him of someone from his younger years, but he never explained further. Barely a year after meeting him, I went to bed one night in my apartment and I woke up here the next morning. At first, I still thought he was my friend and treated the whole thing like a joke, but over a few days it became clear to me that he had no intention of letting me go. I begged him and raged at him and finally pleaded with him, but he wouldn't listen; he'd just go on and on about how much better it was for me here. Over time I had to accept that he was no longer my friend but was now my jailer."

Reid suddenly felt cold in the bright sunshine. If this was how the Director treated someone he was friends with, then what treatment could other people expect? "And you tried to escape?"

"Certainly, and I managed it for a few short hours. Once they had me back here, the Director was furious with me. Other people had been punished for my isolating myself in my room, but I was the only one punished once I was brought back, thank goodness. The Director put me under a doctor's care for several months and when I was released, I was kept under guard, and I am still guarded. I am certain that the Director wishes to take no chances with my escaping a second time."

Reid couldn't imagine what this man's life had been like. "How long have you been here?"

Claudius gave a sad smile. "I try not to think about it, just as I try not to think about my friend. To me, he's the Director now, and I'm the man who's kept locked up, just in case. Whenever someone new comes in I make it a point to introduce myself and to give the newcomers a chance to ask advice, if they want it."

Reid thought quickly. "How do I not get noticed?"

Claudius's eyebrows went up and he blinked. "Well. That was unexpected. Most people ask how they get out of here."

Reid pursed his lips and sighed. "I can tell that it's going to take a while to get out of here, so while I'm here, I want to make sure that this...confinement...is as easy as possible for me."

"Your pragmatism does you credit, Dr. Reid," Claudius complimented. "You're right: It will be a long and patient game for you to get out of here, and I'm sure that if anyone were to manage it, it would be you, just on the basis of the question you just asked. The best advice I can offer for you is simple: accept being here and settle in."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt angry and more than a little betrayed. Out of vengeance, Reid captured Claudius's queen.

Claudius winced. "I may have deserved that. Still, I have reasons for that advice, if you'd care to hear them?"

"I'll listen, but you're not getting your queen back."

Claudius shrugged. "Ah, well. The vicissitudes of fate. The reason why I told you that is so that no eyes are on you. When you cause no trouble and make no one watch you, your chances of escape become higher. How do you think I slipped away?"

Reid thought about what he'd just been told. "I see. I apologize. I should have known you had good reasons."

"Apology accepted." Claudius moved a pawn and captured one of Reid's knights.

Reid examined the board. "Okay, I deserved that."

"Your move, Reid."

They kept going on their game until the bell rang for dinner. By that time they'd managed to capture most of each other's pieces.

"I'd enjoy finishing this game later," Claudius said as he shook Reid's hand over the board. "Would you be free the same time tomorrow?"

"Yes, and I'd enjoy that," Reid answered. "Are you going to dinner? We could go together."

"Most of my meals are served to me in my rooms, but thank you for thinking of me. I'll see you tomorrow."

Reid watched him go and wondered just what Claudius's life was like. Was he always by himself like this? What would he spend his time doing? More importantly, how would he keep himself from going crazy from being by himself all the time?

Reid headed to the dining hall and found Sean and the others. There was a lively debate about Queen Elizabeth I's spy network and Reid listened with half an ear while he brought up his menu and scrolled through the choices. All of it looked so good! Yankee pot roast with vegetables, quiche Lorraine with onion soup, grilled chicken Ceasar salad, mushroom ravioli, chicken divan, shepherd's pie...oh, decisions, decisions. He ended up selecting sesame teriyaki chicken with brown rice and vegetables, and for dessert, a slice of berry angel food cake. He joined the conversation then, and the talk kept going while they ate. They kept talking as they bussed their table and they agreed to revisit the topic in the morning.

Reid checked his watch and unlocked a bike, telling everyone to have a good night. It was almost time for his first baking class and he didn't want to be late. He biked to the arts center, found the home ec wing, and soon he was working with seven others to learn how to make irresistible chocolate chip cookies. He'd made them before by following the recipe on the back of the chocolate chip package, but the recipe they were learning had an extra step or two. They worked in groups of two and Reid's partner was a quiet girl called Mara. While they measured out ingredients and began creaming the butter and sugar together, Reid found himself cracking jokes to make her smile. She didn't look as if she did that enough.

Once the cookies were in the oven, Reid and Mara cleaned up their station and put their dishes and utensils in the dishwasher. "Do you like baking?" Reid asked as they sat down on the bar stools at their station.

Mara's entire face lit up, and she looked like a completely different person. "I like cooking! I want to learn everything I can about it!" She paused and laughed. "I'm probably the only resident that the staff has had to complain to the Director about. I'm always in and out of the kitchen begging the chefs to let me watch them work and let me help!"

Her enthusiasm was contagious. "Do they ever let you?"

"They have a few times, mostly when the Director insisted. The pastry chef's the nicest one; he lets me help him put together cakes and pies and other things."

"Sounds like you would already know quite a bit," Reid said thoughtfully. "Why are you taking a class like this?"

She grinned. "Practice!"

The delicious aroma of cookies filled the room and once the cookies were out of the oven and cool enough, everyone helped themselves to one before packing up the rest to take back to their cottages. Mara told him that it was an unspoken rule to share what you cooked with your housemates.

"Which cottage are you in?" Mara asked as they packed their cookies into boxes.

"Beech."

Her face lit up again. "So am I! How come I haven't seen you?"

"I've been keeping myself busy," Reid admitted. "I'm trying...I guess I'm trying to get used to being here."

Mara nodded and closed the boxes. "I know what you mean. I've been here four years and there are times when I just start doing a lot of stuff so I don't think too much. I mean, the Director's been really nice to me-he's done stuff for me that a father would do for his daughter-but I don't like the fact that he doesn't want me to go away to college or get a job off-campus. He says when I'm old enough he can set up a job on-campus for me."

"And college?" Reid prompted.

She gave him a wry look and raised an eyebrow. "I'm surrounded by professors, and I live on a campus with lots of amenities and a dorm-like situation. My whole life is college!"

Reid startled himself by laughing. This girl was fun. "How long have you been here?"

"Four years. I celebrated my eighteenth birthday six months ago, and the Director threw a party for me at his house and I got some awesome gifts!" She sighed blissfully and smiled. "If it weren't for the Director's totalitarian outlook, I'd say I'm truly spoiled!"

Reid's brain caught up to what she'd said. "He had you brought here when you were fourteen?" He couldn't believe it. What must her parents have gone through?

Her face turned serious. "It's good he did," she said, her tone sober. "You wouldn't believe the foster family that social services put me with after my parents died. The 'dad' was a real sleaze-bag and I can't _believe_ that any woman was willing to marry the pig. If the Director hadn't ordered me brought in, I would have either run on my own or something would have happened. My bedroom didn't have a lock."

He was glad he hadn't said what he'd been thinking. "Thank goodness."

She tugged the end of her braid over her shoulder and toyed with the end. "Yep. The Director told me later that the guy went to jail, so that's good. He can't bother anyone else."

The class ended and Reid biked back to Beech with Mara. While they rode they chatted about what they liked to read and Mara almost massacred a bush with her bike when Reid told her about his degrees. "Really? Mathematics? Could you teach me some? I've already worked with a few other people, but we've covered everything they know!"

Reid found himself smiling as they reached the bike shelter and ported their bikes. "Sure we can! We just need a place to meet."

Mara jumped at him and hugged him hard, squealing with delight. "The library has study and conference rooms! Oh, I can't wait!"

They made plans to meet the day after next and they headed inside, leaving their cookies in the kitchenette for their housemates. Reid bid Mara good night and headed to his room, suddenly tired. When had he last been so...well, busy? College, probably. Grad school, certainly. He got to his room and prepared for bed, his mind buzzing with everything he'd seen, done, and heard that day. He'd had fun, yes, and he'd learned quite a bit, but he knew that sometimes his smile had been too hard, his voice just too loud, and his movements too frantic. He was still scared to death that he'd been kidnapped and brought to this place. As he fell asleep, he thought about his team and just how they've been since he disappeared.

Author's Note: WHY HAS NO ONE SENT HELP?!


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hotch rubbed bleary eyes and stared at his computer screen at his spreadsheet of contacts. He'd called every department he could think of and called in every favor he was owed, but they were still no closer to catching a glimpse of where Reid might be and who might have taken him. He and his team were working non-stop and what he wanted, more than anything else, was to go home and see his son and get some much-needed sleep. Jack was staying with Jessica for the time being and he knew JJ's husband was taking care of Henry, but he, J.J., and the rest of his team hadn't really left the BAU since Reid's disappearance. They would all catch sleep at their desks or on the sofas in his and Rossi's offices, or in a pinch, in one of the easy chairs, and meals were delivered to them. Showers happened in the locker rooms and if they got any exercise it happened while they were running around after one lead or another.

Rossi tapped on his door frame to alert him to his presence. "You look like hell."

"I feel as if I've been through it," Aaron confessed. "How's everyone doing?"

"Busy as caffeinated bees,when they're not falling asleep where they stand," Rossi sighed. "Me, included. How can someone just disappear like this and we have no leads?"

"I'm asking myself that question every moment," Hotch said. "I hate to think what Reid's going through."

"That's a sure way to make yourself crazy," Rossi cautioned him. "That's why I'm not letting myself think about it until I have to. I came by to tell you you have a visitor."

Certain that it was one of his contacts with an answer for him, Aaron surged to his feet. A moment later, Jack and Jessica walked into his office. "Jack." A smile started and then Aaron had his son in his arms. "Hey, buddy."

"Hi, Dad," Jack said, squeezing his ribs. "I missed you."

Aaron had to swallow hard. "I missed you, too. I'm sorry I've been so busy."

"Aunt Jess said it must be important."

"Very important," Hotch said, giving Jack another hug. "Otherwise, I'd be home with you planning that camping trip." Aaron looked up at his sister-in-law. "Thanks so much for bringing him in, Jessica."

She smiled. "Jack pretty much insisted, and I have to admit the kid had a point when he said you needed to see him. You look a thousand times better than you did a minute ago."

Hotch sighed. "It's been a long week."

Jessica raised an eyebrow and gave him a slight smile. "It's been more than a week now."

Hotch groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Great. Now I'm losing track of time."

"Emily and Derek are both sleeping at their desks," Jack said, hopping up onto the couch to sit next to his dad. "Where's Uncle Spencer? Why isn't he here?"

Rossi and Hotch exchanged looks. Neither of them were sure if they should tell Jack or what his reaction would be to the news that Spencer was in trouble. The last thing he wanted was for his son to worry.

Jack went still. "Is something wrong? Something with Uncle Spencer?"

Hotch could see Rossi scrambling for something to say and Hotch just froze, his tired wits not responding.

"I knew it!" Jack said, pointing at his dad. "You'd have said something right away, otherwise. What happened?"

"There's only so much I can tell you," Hotch confessed, capitulating. "Spencer went home one evening and didn't come in to work the next morning, and we couldn't get hold of him. He's disappeared."

Jack folded his arms and fixed his father with a look. "I'm not a little kid, Dad. Not knowing what's happened is only going to make me more scared. Did he just disappear, or did someone take him?"

Hotch wondered just when his son had become so...was 'imperious' the correct word? "Someone took him."

"My God," Jessica breathed, taking a seat in the easy chair. "Any leads?"

"Very tenuous ones, and so far nothing concrete," Hotch said, rubbing the back of his neck. "We've all been working like crazy to find him, though."

Jack leaned over to hug his dad. "I know that, Dad. How do you think Uncle Spencer is holding up?"

Rossi chuckled. "Knowing Spencer, wherever he is, he'll be boring them all by talking about _Star Trek_ and _Doctor Who_ and who knows what else."

Jessica grinned. "Maybe he'll bore them so much that they'll send him home."

"Now that would be awesome," Aaron agreed, his grin matching Jessica's. "What do you think, Jack?"

Jack shook his head. "No, I think Uncle Spencer's so smart that he'll find a way to get a message to us. Then you'll be able to find him!"

"Ten to one, that's how it'll go down," Rossi said chummily.

Jessica gave Rossi a warm look and whispered something to Jack that Hotch didn't catch. Jack grinned and grabbed her hand. "Okay!"

Hotch looked from his son to Jessica and back again. "Why do I feel as if I've missed something?"

"Probably because you have," Jessica said, rising from her chair. "Jack and I are gonna go do something, but we'll be back later. Let's go, Jack. We don't have much time."

Jack hugged his dad goodbye and all but danced out of the office at Jessica's side. Hotch and Rossi watched them go, both of them confused. "Are they always like that?"

Hotch nodded. "At times like this, I can see in Jack a strong resemblance to his mother, and that makes me nervous. Whenever she and Hailey got together, something always happened. I'm sure we'll find out later."

* * *

Spencer biked up to the mailboxes and stopped, straddling the bike so he could open his box and examine the contents inside. There was the community newsletter, with its list of events and classes on offer and other announcements, and there was an envelope with his name on it in precise, calligraphic script. He opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, reading it where he stood.

 _Dear Dr. Reid,_

 _I hope that your first week with us has been pleasant and diverting. I must say that I am pleased with the way you have settled in and have been taking advantage of the many activities we offer. I am looking forward to dinner with you tonight. It will be a formal meal; this evening at seven o'clock at my home. I am eager to see you and hear about your first week._

 _Until this evening,_

 _The Director_

"I'll bet," Reid murmured, tucking his mail away in his bag. He pedalled to the library, ported his bike, and headed inside before taking the stairs up to the second floor. He and Mara were supposed to meet in a study room and Spencer scooted inside, hoping… "Aw, dang it!"

Mara looked up from her notes and grinned. "Beat ya!"

Spencer closed the door so they wouldn't bother anyone with their talk and sat down. He and Mara had developed a game between them, of both of them racing each other to be first to their study sessions. "I was sure I was early! How do you get here so fast?"

She gave him a cheeky smile and batted her eyes. "Magic!"

"You and I are both Muggles, and I _know_ you didn't Apparate," he said, placing his bag on the table and opening it. "Did you do your assignment?"

She nodded and pulled some sheets of paper out of her folder. "I understood all the examples and problems except the last two. Can we go over those?"

Reid scooted his chair next to hers. "Sure. Let's take a look."

While Reid drew examples for her and explained the concept at hand, he reflected on the past week and was amazed that he'd made it through. He'd done all the activities he could and still have time to sleep and eat, and he'd spent time tutoring Mara and playing chess with Claudius. Through it all, though, had been an undercurrent of unease. Sometimes he'd felt faintly nauseated and he'd felt a bit disconnected to what was going on around him, but mostly, he'd been relatively all right.

He had a better idea of how things worked on the campus, now. The staff were all well-paid, and he'd caught more than one of them watching him when they'd thought he wasn't looking. It made sense that the staff would also be the Director's spies, but whenever Reid spoke to one of them, they were always pleasant and friendly and even better, helpful. Rob in the dining hall was by far the nicest one, sneaking Reid an occasional cookie or cupcake when he desperately wanted something sweet. There was a cleaning service who kept the common areas of each cottage tidy and the kitchenettes stocked, and once a week a maid vacuumed and dusted their rooms, swapped their old linens and towels for clean ones and removed their dirty laundry. Everything was returned to them by the next afternoon, clean and pressed. There was a lot more staff for maintaining the grounds and buildings, and WBKJ headed up the security staff. The amount of staff that the Director employed was mind-boggling and Reid wondered just how that man managed to pay them all, let alone run the campus and afford a plane and import the luxury items in the exchange and cafe.

Reid had tried not to think about it too much. It was far too big and far too frightening for him to think about very long. Instead, he'd kept himself busy. He'd gone to his yoga class every day, despite still hating it. He was earning his childhood nickname of "Crash" all over again because he kept losing his balance or putting a foot wrong and falling. His classmates were treating it like a joke, thank goodness, but Reid was a bit tired of having to make a fool of himself on a daily basis. In Creative Crafting he'd finished his wooden wall art map and was deep in making a suncatcher for his window and a macrame hammock for his balcony. Working on two projects at once was challenging, but he was having fun. He'd kept up with Sean and the rest of his group and split his leisure time between Claudius and Mara, and in his baking class they'd finished cookies and quick breads and they'd begun pastries and cakes. There was a recipe he'd seen for a chocolate lava cake and he was keen to try it with Mara. The first time they'd made cupcakes he'd turned around to ask her something and found her happily licking a spoon clean of icing. The look on her face said plainly oh-rats-he-caught-me, but that hadn't stopped her from getting another spoonful almost right away.

He was usually exhausted at the end of the day, exhausted enough to want to crawl into bed right away and sleep, but instead he kept himself awake if he could, watching television in the common room or reading. He'd bought a small CD player at the campus exchange and sometimes he played music to keep his mind off things. All of it helped to keep him distracted, but as soon as he lay down in bed thoughts of home and his mom and his friends would flood his mind and he'd have a hard time falling asleep. Vague dreams haunted him while he was asleep and he often woke up still tired and feeling spooked. Occasionally he would fall asleep in the Green when he found a handy bench or hammock, but those times were few and far between.

He'd been a model prisoner ever since his first chess game with Claudius. He kept himself busy, he didn't make trouble, and he had never once made an attempt to escape. There were times when he thought that he must have been out of his mind to hunker down like he had, but he had to admit to himself that WBKJ or their minions didn't seem to watch him much, and the other staff didn't seem to watch him more than they watched anyone else. That was exactly what he wanted, but the temptation to stand in the middle of the Green and scream "I'M GETTING THE HECK OUT OF HERE AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!" was overwhelming sometimes.

Whenever he felt as if he couldn't take anymore, something would happen to surprise him. One day for lunch he'd arrived at the dining hall to find a sign stating that lunch would be served on the Green that day. Perplexed, he'd gone to the Green and found an outdoor barbecue and picnic in full swing, complete with desserts and games. Every resident was there and that afternoon Reid had taken part in a game of horseshoes, a game of pass-the-bacon (he'd nearly fallen over his feet when it was his turn), cheered on a lacrosse game, and got whacked in the head by blocks of wood when he played a game of giant Jenga. Mara had talked him into a two-legged race and they'd both tripped over his feet, much to his chagrin. He'd had a hamburger, potato chips, baked beans, a cupcake, and later, to console himself for his and Mara's humiliating defeat, he'd had some snickerdoodle cookies and an ice cream cone with Mara. The rest of the day's classes had been canceled, so Reid had spent the whole day at the Green, playing games and hanging out with Mara and Sean and everyone else. The one person that Reid hadn't seen had been Claudius.

The next surprise had been something of an _awful_ temptation. Wallace had stopped him on his way to the library to return some books and said that the Director had arranged a treat for him and a few other people who had been at the campus for less than a year. He and four other people had been taken down to the docks on the east beach for an afternoon cruise on a sailboat. A cold lunch and drinks and sweets had been provided and Reid had spent the entire afternoon actually enjoying himself, despite visions of mutiny arising in his head every few minutes. If he were to try to take over the boat and failed, then all his work at not being noticed would have been wasted. Instead of risking the temptation, he kept himself occupied by learning how to sail when one of the staff offered and learning how to do deep-sea fishing from a fellow resident. At one point they'd come across a pod of dolphins and Reid had practically fallen over the bow of the boat watching them and trying to hear the different clicks and squeals they made. He'd returned to his room before dinner with his hair wind-blown, his skin coated with sea spray, and his nose a bit sunburned, but he'd had fun.

Oh, he knew what the Director was doing, of course. There was no question that he was doing his best to show Reid all the advantages and fun things about the campus so he would let his guard down and accept being there. What really worried Reid was the nature of the projects the Director had people working on. They had to be lucrative, or else the Director wouldn't have the money to run the campus. That argued they were either illegal or black-market in nature, or at the least, ethically questionable. He knew that there were plenty of companies and nations that would pay any amount for things to be done and for problems to be solved, and they didn't always care how they were completed. He was resolved to keep his eyes and ears open and his mouth shut.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for him since he was so focused on getting through dinner that evening. Around six-thirty he biked back to Beech to change clothes, and then he biked to the Director's house, a place that still amused him by being "Invitation Only." He was greeted by Keller at the door and shown into the garden, where the Director was waiting for him. "Ah, Doctor Reid! It's good to see you again!"

Reid wanted to take this man down in a football-style tackle and start pummeling him, but instead he held his hand out to shake. "Hello."

The Director shook his hand before waving him to a chair and then took his seat across from him. "Tell me, how has your first week been?"

"It's been very busy," Reid admitted. "I still don't like the yoga class since I'm such a physical klutz, but the rest of it is...well, fun."

"I understand you've made some friends."

"Oh, yeah," Reid agreed as a waiter brought their meals. "Sean Gallagher and his group, and Mara, and Claudius."

The Director gave him a warm smile and quirked an eyebrow. "I see you've met some of my favorite people. What do you all spend your time doing?"

"Oh, lots of things," Reid said, glancing down at his plate. His mouth watered as his eyes took in a grilled steak with mushrooms, a garlic mashed potato sculpture, and roasted root vegetables. "I wasn't too hungry when I arrived, but now I'm starving."

"Well, tuck in, dear boy," the Director told him, placing his napkin in his lap. "While we eat, you can tell me all about your doings this past week."

In between bites Reid related what he and his new friends had been up to, and he was careful to mention the picnic and the cruise. He shared that he and Claudius met to play chess and that he was tutoring Mara in mathematics and that they were in a baking class together. He added that he met Sean and his friends each day for meals and that they often hung out when they were free.

"And your activities?" the Director prompted. "Are you enjoying them?"

"More than I thought I would," Reid admitted. "I like the Creative Crafting class and the baking class."

The Director nodded. "Good, good. I've been receiving reports of how you've been settling in, and I must admit that I am pleased. I don't think you've accepted being here yet since that always takes a while, but you've been keeping yourself busy and not making things difficult for anyone else, be they staff or resident. Due to this good behavior, I've been considering bending the rules in your case, since your circumstances are unique."

Reid quickly took a sip of water. "What do you mean, bending the rules?"

"I don't usually allow my residents to send messages to those left behind so they'll make a clean break between one phase of their lives and the next, but you were right that your mother depends on your letters. I took the liberty of checking on her and how she was doing, and you were right. I couldn't be so cruel as to deprive her of them entirely."

Reid stared at him, scarcely daring to believe it. "You're going to let me write to her?"

The Director held up a staying hand and nodded. "With conditions, yes."

Reid twisted his napkin in his lap. "What conditions?"

"You can't tell her what's really happened to you. Just tell her that you've been transferred to a new unit elsewhere. Since you'll only be writing once every other week, tell her that's how the mails run where you are, but that you will write to her. You can include as much information as you like, but you cannot tell her where you are."

Reid nodded, still twisting the napkin. "I haven't worked out where we are yet."

The Director chuckled. "I see. Well, thank goodness. You're a geographic profiler, aren't you?"

Reid sighed and dug into his mashed potatoes. "The irony has not been lost on me. What do I do once I've written a letter?"

"You leave it in your mailbox, and I'll see to it that it's sent to her. Since I have someone leaving tonight to do some errands for me, you could write your first letter to her once we've finished eating so it can go with him. How does that sound?"

Reid was ready to inhale his food, but he restrained himself. "That sounds wonderful." He could only imagine his mom's relief when she got a letter from him. He knew for certain he would sleep better that night when he went to bed if he sent a letter.

The Director turned the talk to other topics after that, encouraging Reid to ask questions about anything he didn't understand or wanted to know more about. Reid asked about what certain events were like and if it were required he go to them.

"Why not?" the Director queried him, sounding genuinely curious.

"Well, I don't like beaches too much, so Surf and Sun Day causes me a bit of concern."

The Director threw his head back and laughed outright, his voice ringing off the walls of the garden. "Causes you some concern! Oh, my!"

Reid waited until he stopped laughing. "Well, is there a way?"

"Let me think about it; it's not for a while," the Director told him, still chuckling.

Reid did ask about the projects that he could expect to work on when it was time, but the Director wagged a finger at him. "Don't try to run before you walk, Dr. Reid. There will be plenty of time for that later."

It was an answer without answering a single question he had, and it was infuriating, but he smiled and nodded and returned his attention to his food. Dessert was a Fraisier genoise cake that melted on the tongue and caused Reid to draw a deep, heartfelt sigh of pure bliss after the first bite. In every bite he could taste strawberry, creme patissiere, and sweet, syrup-brushed cake that was as light as air. All he could do was breathe a reverent, "Wow…"

"Good, isn't it?" the Director commiserated. "It's my favorite of the kitchen's cakes."

Reid leaned back in his chair and gave a beatific smile. "I can see why. Nations could be brought to their knees by this cake."

As soon as dessert was finished, the Director led Reid inside to his office. There, he set out paper, an envelope, and a pen, and invited Reid to write as much as he liked. After taking a moment to compose his thoughts, Reid picked up the pen and started writing. He wrote without a break for close to twenty minutes, only stopping to work out hand cramps. Finally, he looked his letter over, folded up the pages, and slipped them into the envelope before writing his mother's name and address on the back of the envelope. "When do you think she'll get it?"

"Most likely sometime tomorrow or the next day," the Director said. "I can promise you that she'll receive it, Dr. Reid. I hate to bring a pleasant evening to an end but it is getting rather late, and I know you're up early in the mornings."

The Director walked him to the door and bid him a good night and Reid thanked him for a pleasant evening and for allowing him to write his mother. He biked back to Beech and walked into the middle of a pillow fight in the common room, with Mara leading the charge. "REID!" she yelled, spotting him. "Grab a pillow! We need all the men we can get!"

Reid picked up a piece of ammunition and dove into battle, ready to leave his cares on the side for a while.

* * *

Jessica and Jack brought them lunch. Even better, none of it was carry-out or pizza. They'd gone home, cooked a massive meal, and carted it all into the office for them. When Hotch saw what his son and sister-in-law had pulled off, he had to hug each of them. "Thank you. I feel like I've come back to life."

"You guys looked like you needed a little TLC," Jessica said, returning the hug.

J.J.'s phone rang and she set down her plate of spaghetti and meatballs to answer it. "Agent Jareau."

Everyone froze, even Derek, who was in the middle of slurping a noodle into his mouth. The end of the spaghetti hung from the right side of his face, forgotten.

"Yes, thank you," J.J. said. "Yes, I'll let my team know right away. Someone will be there soon." She hung up and faced the rest of her team. "Diana Reid just got a letter from Spence."

A meatball flew toward the ceiling as everyone started celebrating.

A/N: Plot Rabbit-zilla must be appeased. I suddenly have no life anymore.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was one of the tensest jet rides Rossi could remember. When J.J. had said that someone would be there soon, she should have said, "My team will be there soon." Everyone immediately grabbed their go bags, including Garcia, who had stood there with a look in her eyes that was almost frightening. Her eyes told them all, in no uncertain terms, that she was going and that no one was going to stop her. Hotch had looked at her, looked at her go bag, and simply said, "All right. Wheels up in thirty."

That had been the last thing said that didn't sound tense. No one was talking beyond small comments like, "I hope that letter can point us in the right direction," or "I hope Reid's okay." None of them wanted to say anything contrary to those two ideas, but Dave knew the darker side of things from his long years in behavioral analysis and those things did not leave him sanguine about Reid's situation at all. Whoever had taken Reid had taken him for a purpose, and those kinds of kidnappers did not let go of their prizes easily. The kindest thing he could do for his teammates was to not say anything.

"Once we find Reid, we'll need to take him out for the night!" Penelope stated, bouncing in her seat. Her mood had changed from frightened to hopeful and then optimistic. Dave wished he had her sunny optimism sometimes. In her mind, Dave was sure that any clues Reid had managed to slip them would lead them right to him and they would all be home by Friday. Either that, or she was desperately trying to distract herself from worrying about their resident genius. Given the way that her eyes were a little too bright and her smile too forced, he felt it was the latter.

Derek looked up from his phone. "Are you sure Reid would be up for that?"

"He'd probably want to-you know, shake off a bad experience?"

"Let's see what Spence wants to do," J.J. suggested. She knew that Reid just might want to relax instead of going out for a night on the town.

All of them were pinning their hopes on that letter. They knew that their job of deciphering any code, clues, or hints would be difficult without Reid there to pick out patterns and point them in the right direction, but they were sure that they would have something to go on. When they got to the facility where Spencer's mom was, though, they got a shock.

"Spencer didn't write that letter," Diana stated, staring at her son's team as they crowded into her room.

All of them froze, even Penelope. "What...what do you mean?" the tech analyst asked, confused.

Diana picked up the letter from where it lay on her bedside table and handed it to Hotch. "Take a look. It's not how he usually writes; it's his handwriting, but it's too different to be him. It was someone else."

Hotch unfolded the letter and looked at it. It looked like Reid's handwriting...except...hmmm. Since when had Reid added little tails or dashes to certain letters? "Is it all right if I read this out loud to my team and make a copy of it take back with us?"

Diana dropped into a chair and waved a hand. "You can take it with you, if you like. Just find my son."

Hotch took a seat on the sofa and started to read.

 _Dear Mom,_

 _I am so sorry that I haven't written to you for so many days, but I have some news. I've been transferred to a new unit. The mail doesn't run here that often, so I'll only be able to write you once every other week. It's all right, though, I'll make them good, long letters._

 _The new unit I'm working for is interesting. It all happened really fast. One second I'm in D.C. and then the next, I'm here. It's really hot here, but I'm getting used to it. You should see this place! There's honeysuckle, magnolias, huge oak trees, and you should see the beaches! Everywhere you look, there's a beach where you can watch the sun rise or set, except for the north. My new unit is based on a peninsula and it's really nice here-almost like a resort! Everyone is very kind and the director here has seen to it that I've settled in. He had lunch with me the first day and this evening I had dinner with him. He's arranged for me to send letters, so he let me sit down in his office and write to you right away. He says I'll start working on different projects soon and I'm looking forward to it._

 _There's a nice park where I can read or play chess, and there's a rec center where I can get some exercise. I'm re-earning my childhood nickname since I'm such a klutz-can you see me doing a yoga class? That's what I'm doing, though, every morning. I had a physical exam when I arrived and the doctor suggested I take the class, and now here I am, trying to learn and hold yoga positions. Yeah, I kind of suck at it._

 _Everything here is provided for me, which makes clothes shopping really easy. I arrived and my wardrobe and dresser were already full! How they knew my sizes is beyond me, but it's come in handy. If I'd brought all of my own clothes I would have roasted alive in my sweaters and slacks. Here, I've got cotton and linen shirts, cotton and linen pants, and so on. All of my clothes are light and comfortable. I love the pajamas the most; they're the most comfortable things I own._

 _My room is nice and relaxing, and I'm in a cottage with a few other people. We all have our own rooms and bathrooms and balconies, but we share the common areas. Each common area is stocked with games, movies, a stereo system, and so on. Last night I played Carcassonne with some of my housemates, and we were pretty evenly matched. There are plenty of people here who share the same interests I do, and I've already made some friends. I have my meals with them every day and we talk and talk the whole time._

 _One of the perks of this place is the number of classes they offer if you want something fun to do. I mentioned the yoga class, but can you imagine your son taking a crafting class and a baking class? When I can, I'll make you a chocolate cake-I'm sure you'll love it. They offer other things, too, like plays and concerts and movies in the evenings. Since I've been here I've attended a string quartet concert, seen a Shakespeare play, and there's going to be a fireworks show the day after tomorrow. Next week they're hosting a formal dance, and I intend to go and be a decorative wallflower. No lady there deserves to have me stepping on her feet. One girl, Mara, says she can teach me how to dance, but I think she might be letting herself in for more than she knows._

 _I can tell you that someone has found a way to make sure that I remember to eat when it's time. Meals here are mandatory. I'll let that sink in for a moment. Mandatory. No more forgetting to eat for me! I have to sign in each mealtime and there's a personalized menu for me, and the food is really good. I can choose what I'd like and someone prepares it for me and brings it to my table. I always have a ton of choices and I never get the same meal twice in a week. I don't think I've put on any weight-it's probably all the coffee that keeps me so skinny, just like you said! I feel like I'm always eating at a five-star restaurant; that's how good the food is! The only bad thing is that if I choose a high-calorie main dish, I can't get a high-calorie dessert. The nutritional plan they made for me makes sure I get enough nutrients and not too many calories and everything balances out. I can't eat an ice cream cone and call it lunch anymore, more's the pity. There is, however, a cafe, and they sell sweets like scones, muffins, coffee, tea, etc., so if I get an unbearable sugar craving, I can go there._

 _There's also a store here: it's got everything you could want, and a few things you never knew you wanted. I bought a new bag to carry things in and a CD player so I can play music in my room. I did mention that iPods or MP3 players would be more efficient, but the director said they wouldn't work here. Oh, well. It would be better if everybody could have their own smartphones and keep their playlists on them, but only the staff here have phones._

 _I said before that this place was like a resort, and it is. You can swim at the beach (I don't) or you can swim at the rec center. There's a rock-climbing wall and a fitness center, and there are trails for hiking and biking, a riding stable and riding trails, and there are plenty of gardens where you can relax. The Green is the most popular place, here, though-it's like a big park, with an amphitheater, biking and walking paths, benches, outdoor gyms-I'm there a lot, mostly to read or play chess. Everyone here either walks or bikes to get around. I've been biking a lot, too, but just to get from point A to point B. There are some who treat it like a hobby and spend all their spare time biking. One of my friends suggested I try horseback riding and I had to explain about the "Reid effect." With my luck with animals I'd get thrown from the saddle or stepped on, or both. I want to avoid that if I can, so I just admire the horses from afar-really far._

 _There have been other fun things to do aside from avoiding the horses. The staff hosted a picnic on the Green for us and I was invited to go sailing with a few other recent arrivals. I didn't get seasick, but I did almost fall off the boat when I spotted a pod of dolphins. They were a lot of fun to watch, and one of the staff offered to teach me to sail the boat. I never knew sailing could be so fun and I felt as if I should call him "matey" or something like that. I didn't, though, so he still likes me. I got a bit sunburned, but it was worth it._

 _The place I'll be working is called the research center-it's full of laboratories and workrooms and meeting rooms and best of all, it has a library with 200,000 volumes in it, and I have borrowing privileges! The only limit to how much you can check out is how much you can carry, or so I've been told. I've yet to test that hypothesis, but it's only a matter of time. I'm actually looking forward to it. I'm sure that the number of books I'll be able to carry will be proportional to my desire to read them._

 _I'm sorry that I won't be able to write as often as I usually do. Like I said, the mails don't run as often here, so once every other week is the best I can do, and I'm only limited to one letter due to space constraints. Still, I'm going to make my letters nice and long. That way, it'll take you longer than usual to read them , and it won't seem so long in between hearing from me. I never considered changing jobs before this, but it wasn't an offer I could refuse. It happened so fast that I didn't quite know what hit me until after I was here. You don't need to worry about me; they take really good care of their people. There's even an on-site hospital with a full medical staff, and there's a security staff on the grounds, and a housekeeping staff to watch after us. That's in addition to the team of chefs who prepare our meals and the staff in the spa and salon! That's one heck of perk, isn't it? My first day here I had a medical exam, like I said, and I was also treated to a shave and a haircut and even a manicure. I kept telling them that it wasn't necessary, but it was like arguing with a wall-I got nowhere, and I had my nails done. The doctor who examined me suggested I have a massage sometime, but I think he and I are going to butt heads over it. I'll let you know how it goes._

 _I'd better close this letter now, Mom, they're waiting to take it. In my next letter I'll let you know how that dance goes and all the things I've been doing. Until then, please take care of yourself, think of me as often as I'll think of you, and I'll see you soon. I love you, Mom._

 _Your son,_

 _Spencer_

Hotch finished reading the letter aloud and then skimmed it quickly with his eyes. "Diana, why do you think Reid didn't write this letter? It looks like his handwriting."

"My son wouldn't leave his position at the BAU," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "It might look like his handwriting, but it's not right. Someone had to be pretending to be Spencer and wrote that letter and sent it so I wouldn't worry. Well, they've got me to deal with, now. Nobody kidnaps my son and gets away with it!"

Immediately Hotch regretted having had to inform Diana about Reid's kidnapping, but they were legally obligated to inform the next-of-kin. He only hoped this wouldn't set off one of Diana's episodes. That was the last thing that Reid needed. He examined the envelope and was surprised that there was no postmark. "Who brought this to you? Was it a postal employee?"

Diana shrugged. "Nope. Private courier. That's another reason why it can't be from Spencer, since he always uses the post office to send me letters."

"What did this private courier look like?" Emily asked.

"Some guy in a suit. He was wearing sunglasses, even inside, which was strange. Said he'd been asked to drop off a letter for me. Now, I ask you-a private courier wearing a suit? Who does that?"

Hotch nodded. "That's definitely strange; I agree. Derek, could you and Penelope go and speak with the head of security here? I want to see if anyone spotted this guy."

Diana watched the two of them go and turned to Hotch. "What are you doing to find my son?"

Hotch related all the steps they'd taken, including coming to see her. "Speaking to the families is always important. Right now, what do you think Spencer is thinking? How do you think he's handling what's happened to him?" He knew how Reid handled being kidnapped, but he still wanted Diana's take on it.

She smiled. "Knowing him, he'll be plotting ways to get away and doing his best to win people to his

side. If anything in that letter is true, I doubt it will be long before he's figured out what makes that place and the people in it tick, and he starts winding the clock so it keeps the time he wants."

J.J. smiled at her metaphor. "I think you're right."

They left shortly after that, leaving their contact information with Diana's doctor again just in case, encouraging him to call if he noticed anything. They spoke to the head of security and viewed the security footage and Penelope set up her laptop and started tapping away. Five minutes into viewing the footage she froze and stared. "I've got a match! That's one of the guys who escorted Reid out of his apartment building! See? Right there!"

The entire team watched as the man entered the facility, checked in at the desk and then dropped the letter off to Diana.

"No one on their security staff thought it was weird a private courier was wearing a suit?" Derek wanted to know. "They seriously need to take a good look at the people they employ."

"Well, their negligence has actually helped us," Hotch pointed out. "If he'd been turned away at the front desk, we wouldn't have gotten any footage of his face at all, not with the angles the cameras were at during the time he was at the front desk."

"It's actually a bit of good news, seeing that guy," Emily added. "Now we know for sure that the letter actually came from Reid. All we have to do now is track down this guy and have him lead us to their base."

Rossi smiled. It looked like the BAU was on the trail.

* * *

Two nights after sending his first letter to his mom, Reid woke up at some commotion outside. There was a man swearing a blue streak at the top of his lungs and he could hear some things crashing around. Confused, Reid got out of bed and went out onto his balcony, trying to see what was going on. If someone was hurt, they might swear, and if someone was hurt, they might need help. Was he the only one hearing this?

He got a shock when he saw WBKJ struggling with a man. He was built like Derek and he looked a bit like a Norse god, but any hints of divinity ended when the guy started swearing again. Reid had never heard anything like it in all his years on the BAU or during his time in public school. Sailors would blush if they heard that, or perhaps the demons in hell. He got a bigger shock when the guy tossed Wallace and Bell as if they were old rag dolls into the bike shelter (oh, that was where the crashing had come from) and knocked Jackson head over heels with a punch. It was Keller who brought an end to the fight, though, by jumping onto the guy's back and clinging like a burr. A second later he'd hit the guy in the back of the head and he went down like a tree. Unable to watch any more, Reid scurried back into his room and drew the blinds over the sliding glass door. He felt as if he were shaking and he didn't know what to do. He didn't think the man was dead, but he was sure that something was going to happen because of this man.

A/N: I have managed to smuggle out a chapter with the help of a sympathetic carrier pigeon. The plot bunny is discussing ransom.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The letter was lying in the middle of the table and all of them were sitting around the table and staring at it as if willing it to give up its secrets. They'd been over it and over it with a fine tooth comb and so far, they'd come up with nothing. The little tails and dashes that Reid had included in his handwriting had given them a string of gibberish words, and they were still running them through decryption programs and trying to find a pattern so they could break the code, but it looked as if the code Reid had chosen was an uncommon one. They'd been able to match it to nothing.

"You never really appreciate how smart someone is until you have to figure out what they're thinking," Rossi sighed, sounding exhausted. He looked around as if suddenly realizing something was different. "Where's Garcia?"

"Down in her office, working on the decryption. You also never truly appreciate how much someone can do until they're not around," Hotch added. "If this had come up in a case, Reid would have cracked it by now."

Emily looked up at the screen where they could see the latest decryption program running. "Probably without the computer, too. Makes me wish Reid had chosen a more common code. We've tried Vigenere ciphers, tri-square, Nicodemus, Baconian, we've tried key phrases...bupkis. Just how encrypted does this message have to be?"

"I'm guessing encrypted enough to escape detection," Morgan said. "Which, since the letter was delivered, we can be sure that it worked. If it had been an easy code to crack, Diana would never have received it. That's one good thing."

After the initial elation over the letter had passed, the team's spirits had quickly taken a turn for depression. They all knew that that was how the human psyche worked, but being depressed made everything harder.

"Nothing in this letter makes sense!" Morgan suddenly complained, startling all of them. "I mean, he's kidnapped and kept in a resort where they have activities for him? What kind of kidnapper does something like that?"

J.J. shrugged. "I don't know. I keep telling myself not to be surprised by anything we come across in our work, but the situation Spence describes is...out there. Waaaaay out there."

"Never said a truer word," Emily agreed. "If what he wrote is true, then at least he's being treated kindly, and he has things to occupy his time so he's not fretting. That's good." She'd felt somewhat better about Reid's situation when she heard about all the things he'd been doing. She knew that sitting and fretting was one of the worst things a prisoner or kidnapping victim could do. "And, if Reid were including his feelings in this letter, most of the time his spirits are up, which is great. The longer he staves off depression, the better off he'll be."

"Yeah, but how is this facility run? Where does the money to run it and pay the staff come from? Are the staff Reid described prisoners like him, or are they there willingly? If so, then why haven't they realized that Reid's a kidnapping victim and done something about it?" Derek wanted to know. "What the hell is going on at this place?"

"All good questions," Hotch said, palming his eyes. "Until we have more information, I don't know if it would be helpful to speculate." He picked up the letter and examined it. "I can tell that Reid's trying to tell us something, but I can't see what it is."

All of them examined their copies. They could pick out the marked letters easily, but that was all. Until they broke the code, they were stuck. J.J. turned her letter upside-down, the way she did when she was trying to decipher one of Henry's drawings, but it didn't help. She turned it back around and stared at it, hoping that she would notice something new. If only they had a Reid to help them find the Reid they were missing.

* * *

Reid stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself. He was dressed in a tuxedo-an _expensive_ tuxedo-and he wanted to hide under the bed.

He looked like a penguin with really good and expensive fashion sense. He was on the verge of reaching for his bow tie to untie it when someone knocked on the door. Sighing, he opened his door.

"Woah," Sean said, staring at him. "You look great!"

"I look like a penguin," Reid corrected. "You look sophisticated and ready for a lovely evening."

"You should give yourself more credit," Sean protested as he walked into Reid's room. "A _lot_ more credit; all the ladies and a few of the men are going to be staring at you tonight."

"If they can find me; I'm sure there's a corner somewhere I can hide," Reid responded. He looked at himself again in the mirror and fought the urge to whimper. "I...don't look like myself at all!"

Sean gave him a long look. "Is that what's worrying you? That nobody's going to recognize you? Trust me, Reid, that won't be a problem."

"That's not the problem at all," Reid argued. "The problem is that I don't recognize myself, and I feel weird all dressed up like this, and I feel even weirder about the fact that I'm going to a dance that my _kidnapper_ is hosting…"

"Okay, put like that, I understand why you feel the way you do," Sean agreed. "It's weird. The whole situation is weird. Our entire lives are composed of weirdness, and they have been ever since we arrived here, but it's a different matter when you let the weirdness get you down."

Reid thought about it. "You're right. I know you're right, but tonight is not going to be easy."

"The next one will be easier," Sean promised. "If it's any comfort, your friends will be there to help you through the weirdness, even if we have to act weird to get you to smile."

Reid looked up at Sean's face and grinned when he saw the face Sean was pulling. He'd crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, and how did he get his nose to do _that_? "Okay, okay. I'll go. Thanks."

Sean returned his smile. "You're welcome. Truth to tell, we're all counting on each other to help us get through each dance, and the more of us there are, the easier it is."

"I never thought about that," Reid said after considering this new information. "Okay. Let's get going."

The men were all walking or biking to the lodge, which was where the dance was being held. The ladies, in deference to their shoes, were being given rides in cars to their destination. Reid rather felt that the ladies deserved it since they had to wear high heels or whatever other kind of uncomfortable shoe was currently in fashion. While they walked, Michael and Louis joined them.

"Oh, be still my heart!" Louis gushed once he caught sight of Spencer. "My dear Dr. Reid, you look simply marvelous tonight!"

"I look like a marvelous penguin," Reid corrected him. "Thanks, though, you look pretty good yourself."

Louis smirked at him. "Good enough to…?"

"Hey, hey, Louis," Michael said quickly. "Cut it out with the flirting, huh?"

Louis gave him a warm smile. "Jealous?"

Michael blushed so deeply that even his ears were pink. "Can we just get going?"

"If you'll give me the first dance," Louis pressed.

"Fine, fine, let's go."

Michael marched ahead and Louis hurried after him. Reid hung back to wait for Sean and he waited until they were both out of earshot before speaking. "So, have they been a couple long?"

"Michael's had it bad for Louis ever since he arrived, but he felt that Louis would be bored with him," Sean admitted. "What Michael didn't realize is that Louis has been doing his best to make Michael jealous ever since they first laid eyes on each other. I think last night was their first date."

"So, all that bon vivant stuff Louis was spouting and the flirting…?"

"His desperate attempts to get Michael to notice him."

Reid chuckled. "I think it worked."

"And how," Sean confirmed. "When I saw Michael this morning before breakfast, he looked as if he didn't know what hit him and that he couldn't be happier about it."

Reid nearly fell down on the path laughing, but he managed to laugh quietly so Michael and Louis wouldn't hear him. Once he got himself under control and got his breath back, he and Sean headed to the lodge.

It had been transformed. Strings and strings of white lights had been strung along the railings for the front patio, and more strings of them had been wrapped around the miniature cypress trees in front and along the eaves of the building. The lights were twinkling on and off, making the whole place look as if it had been invaded by fairies. Bowls of water holding flowers and floating candles only added to the illusion. Reid stood there, staring at all of it. "Is this the prom?"

"Nope, it's the monthly dance. You should have seen last month's theme."

"What was it?"

"Among the Clouds. Cotton clouds with lights in them, dry ice fog, silver cut-out stars hanging everywhere, actual live doves on perches...It was pretty amazing."

"I bet. Who comes up with all these ideas?"

"The Director."

Reid did a double-take. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. If you wait long enough, he'll really outdo himself. He's done big band themes, rock n' roll themes, island themes, a Viennese ball theme, exotic places themes, a Victorian London theme...he never does the same thing twice, and he does this twelve times a year. If it's a historical theme, he even arranges period costumes for us. Finding out what the month's theme is gives us all something to look forward to."

"He did say that the dances were well-attended," Reid said, remembering.

"Well, of course. Wait until you see inside!"

Sean had been right to be excited. Inside, there were more flowers, candles, and strings of lights, but there were also nature sounds, like crickets, breezes through tree branches, and quiet stream. Reid could feel the breezes on his face and smell the water! Best of all was over their heads, where an LED ceiling showed the stars and moon and occasionally a CGI fairy would flit across, sometimes as a streak of light or sometimes as a miniature gossamer being with wings. Reid grinned as he saw a fairy float lazily by on its back overhead, wiggling its toes at the stars. "This is better than a theme park!" No wonder the people here liked these dances!

"You've got that right," Sean said. "I think this is the first time he's done a fairy theme. The ladies are gonna love it!"

He was right. The women started arriving then, ooohing and aaahhhing at the decor. Reid spotted Mara at the same time that Mara spotted him, and she dragged him over to the refreshments table right away. "Look what I did!"

"What?" Reid asked, still distracted by her floor length blue dress covered with silver accents. She looked wonderful, but obediently he turned his attention to the food. The sweets and savories laid out all looked like bits of vegetation and forest creatures-flowers, grasses, tiny trees, mosses, fungi, berries, field mice, birds, snails, ducks and geese, frogs, fish, squirrels, and chipmunks.

"The mushrooms! I learned how to make meringue mushrooms! Try one, try one!"

Reid helped himself to a meringue mushroom and grinned as it melted away to nothing in his mouth. "Oh. Mmm…" He looked right and left and then snagged another. "These are great!"

"Now try one of the little logs!"

Each of the little logs had been placed in green paper cups trimmed to look like leaves and grasses. Reid took one and bit into it and sighed in bliss. "It's chocolate!" Then the warmth from the filling hit him. "Oh, wow. What's in these?"

"Chocolate liqueur!" Mara said, sounding delighted. "Don't eat too many of them, okay?"

"Don't worry," Reid assured her, thinking of his sobriety. He'd have an occasional drink at home if he were out with his team, but he always limited himself, and sometimes abstained altogether, especially if he were under stress. Alcohol always made things harder. "The last thing I want to do tonight is get drunk. Did you make anything else?"

Mara showed him tiny cupcakes, small enough to fit in a fairy's hands. He had two of those, and then there was a spun sugar squirrel, a fondant frog, a marzipan ladybug, a sandwich shaped like a flower, and a fairy ring of mushrooms on green and brown moss that turned out to be a miniature shredded salad. He finished nibbling with a tiny cake shaped like a forest pond (complete with chocolate fish!) and then Mara dragged him onto the dance floor.

Even the music fit the theme. He could hear harps and lutes, pipes and drums, and Mara pulled him through the steps of a dance that he couldn't name. The second dance sounded like a waltz and Reid was able to get through it by counting in his head, ONE-two-three, ONE-two-three.

He caught sight of Sean dancing with Wendy and later caught sight of Louis and Michael sitting together and talking. Reid stepped on Mara's toes three times before he started praying that she would let him sit out the next dance. His deliverance came from an unlikely source when the Director tapped him on the shoulder.

"I am sorry to interrupt you both, but I was hoping that my favorite young lady would grant me a dance," he said, holding out a hand to Mara.

"Would you mind, Reid?" she asked.

"No, of course not. I'll see you later." Reid hurried out of the way of the dancing couples and joined Sean, Wendy, Louis, and Michael.

"I see the Director cut in," Michael teased him.

"Thank goodness for her toes he did," Reid stated. "I don't think they could have taken much more of my stepping on them. Anyone want something to drink? I'm parched."

When everyone said they wanted something to drink, Sean went with him to carry the drinks back, and they all sat and sipped together, talking. Mostly the talk centered around past dance themes and how they compared to the present one, and some of their chat discussed the food. Louis had had three of the chocolate logs and was contemplating a fourth.

"I'd take it easy on those," Reid cautioned him. "Those pack a punch."

Louis looked at him and gave him a fond smile. "I know! Aren't they _fabulous_?"

Sean had brought two plates of goodies to their table from the refreshments table and pushed a plate of the flower sandwiches and pond cakes towards him. "Here. Try some real food before you have any more sweets with alcohol in them. We still have the toast to get through later."

"What toast?" Reid asked.

"Everybody gets a glass of champagne to toast the assembled company," Louis said, his voice sounding a trifle detached. "Happens at midnight. It's a quaint ritual the Director likes to see. After the toast, the party's over and we all go to bed, kinda like Cinderella. Except we don't lose our shoes. Well, some of the ladies might-those hurt to walk in."

Reid felt as if Louis had had too many chocolate logs already. Just how much liqueur was in those things?

He didn't get a chance to think about it since Wendy asked him to dance, and then Mara was back, and then Mara was introducing Reid to her friend Lily. Reid was kept busy with dancing, apologizing for stepping on his partners' feet, and chatting with his friends. Occasionally he would grab a snack or something to drink.

He was on his way to get another cup of punch when he spotted the guy that he'd seen wrestling with WBKJ the other night. He hadn't told anyone about what he'd seen and no one had brought it up to him, but the man had been in the back of his thoughts since that night. He hadn't seen the man since that night or heard from anyone about a new resident, so he was brought up short when he saw him.

The man spotted him, too, and moved to stand in front of him. "You're staring."

"S-sorry," Reid stammered, taking a step back. "I was surprised."

"By?"

"Well, I saw you the other night, fighting with WBKJ, and…"

"WBKJ?"

"Wallace, Bell, Keller, and Jackson," Reid clarified. "They're the heads of security…"

The man raised an eyebrow as if to say, hurry up and get to the point.

"New residents don't usually...well, no one's been punished for your fighting...I was just surprised to see them getting their asses kicked."

It had been the right thing to say. The man cracked a smile. "It was a little too easy. They must have had orders not to hurt me, or something. What's your name?"

"Spencer Reid, but everyone just calls me Reid."

The newcomer stared. "Seriously? Spencer Reid?" He looked Reid up and down and nodded. "Yep, you're him. Thought you looked familiar!"

"You know me?" Reid said quickly, surprised again.

"I'm in law enforcement," he said. "Your picture and details came to us from the FBI two days before I was snatched. Never thought we'd end up in the same place!"

Reid could feel some tight knot inside his chest relax. He'd never doubted that his friends would be looking for him, but hearing that little detail reassured him that they were.

"What the hell _is_ this place? Each time I see that bastard that ordered me brought here he refuses to say anything other than that this is my new home. What is up with that?"

"It's called the Trust," Reid explained. "The Director-you know him as the bastard-set it up to protect gifted individuals and to encourage them to use their gifts. I've only been here a few weeks, so I can't tell you what it's like long-term. One thing you need to remember, though, is that if you break the rules, someone else is punished."

Reid received a long, thoughtful look. "Knew he was a bastard."

"Um...yeah." Reid looked him up and down. Up close, he looked even more like a Norse god, but something about his facial structure looked familiar. "So, what's your name?"

"James. James Norwood." He held out his hand to shake.

"Good to meet you, although I would have preferred to meet you somewhere other than here."

"Likewise."

"Which cottage are you in?"

"Cottage?"

"I'm in Beech," Reid offered. "Are you nearby?"

James shook his head. "I'm not in one of the cottages. I'm in the big, white stucco building with the red tile roof."

Reid's jaw dropped open. "Why are you in the Director's quarters?"

"No clue," James confessed. "He's freakin' creepy, though. I have to have all my meals with him, he calls me 'my boy' and things like that, and every night he has to come into my room to say good night to me. It's so weird that it's beyond all of humanity's capacity for weirdness. He's treating me like I'm a kid or something. He even has Bell following me around whenever I'm out of the house. I don't need a stupid babysitter."

Reid nodded. "No, he's more your watcher. I know someone else who has one, too. He escaped once and since then Wallace has been with him whenever he's outside."

"Well, it's annoying," James stated, combing his fingers through his hair. "Look, could you introduce me to your friends? I feel like I need to talk to people."

"Sure. Let's go."

Sean and the rest of his group were happy to welcome James and soon James was seated with them, nibbling on bits of tasty flora and fauna and sipping punch, stopping only when one of the girls wanted to dance. At one point Louis dragged Reid to his feet for a turn around the floor just so Michael could cut in, and Reid re-took his seat, laughing. "Everytime I think he's gone as far as he can go, he ends up surprising me," he confessed to Sean, who clapped him on the back.

"If it's any consolation, he often surprises me, too," Sean said. Mara jumped up from her seat and headed straight for James, saying that he was the only one she hadn't danced with.

"I am no kind of dancer," James warned her.

"Reid said the same thing, but he still danced with me," she argued. "Pleeease?"

"If you complain later, I'll remind you that you insisted," James said, getting up and taking her hand. "Let's go."

Sean watched them go. "A police officer," he said thoughtfully. "And his quarters are in the Director's house."

"He's on a par with us, intellectually," Reid told him. "Just talking with him is enough to show anyone that, but what I don't get is why he's not in one of the cottages."

"I'm sure the Director has his reasons."

Reid looked at his friend. "Sean, do you have a theory?"

"More of a guess, really. I don't want to give voice to it until I have more information, though, so I think it would be best if I kept it to myself for a while."

Reid thought about it. "Mm-hmmm. Well, that might be a good idea." He knew that the staff had big ears and eyes and they would report anything they heard or saw to the Director, so Sean was right to keep things to himself if he didn't want the Director to hear about it. "I wonder what his name is."

Sean did a double-take. "James?"

"No, the Director."

Sean sighed. "I've never asked. He always introduces himself as the Director. Perhaps he thinks of himself that way, instead of as a man with a name. In truth, that's a little frightening, if you think about it."

Reid thought about it and wished he hadn't. "Why is it always night out when people bring up creepy stuff?"

Chimes interrupted them and the music stopped. The Director headed to the front of them room and beamed at all of them, clearly visible in the light from the fairy lights. "Good evening, everyone! Another month has passed here at the Trust. Thank you all for your hard work at settling in here and in working with the people around you. I am proud of all of you. Please, enjoy a final dance and rest well when you return to your beds. I will see you all in the morning."

A good number of people clapped and the staff scattered among them, holding trays with glasses of champagne for everyone. Reid took one and everyone sipped theirs as the Director drained his glass. Reid took one tiny sip and set the glass aside. He'd had that chocolate liqueur log earlier and he had no idea what the cumulative effect would be if he downed a glass of champagne on top of it. Sean pulled him onto the dance floor for the traditional last dance, which was everybody just bouncing around in time to the music. As they headed outside after the music ended, Reid reflected that it was a nice way to bond with the people around you, with everyone moving in time to the same music and all crowded into the same space. Sean had told him a few days ago when Reid had asked about the dance that the Director had started the tradition. It looked as if the Director was doing his best to get them to...well, come together as a group. He'd certainly chosen some effective ways to do it. If he were a bit less tired, he might be able to make a list of just how many ways the Director had done it.

He and the rest of his housemates made it back to Beech and all of them trudged upstairs, the ladies carrying their shoes in their hands. Reid bid his friends good night and swiped himself into his room. He'd taken lots of mental notes about the dance and he would have to include them in his next letter to his mom. As he prepared for bed, he thought about James and why he might be under the Director's roof, rather than in one of the cottages, and he found his thoughts wandering a bit. They ended up on the last letter he'd written his mother. He'd included plenty of clues for his friends so they could find him-he'd drawn them a map, really. He just hoped they'd be able to decipher it. If he were lucky, he'd be able to include more information in the next letter.

A/N: I have no idea if you guys are still with me, but the plot rabbit is not letting up. Once again, requesting backup.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Reid stood at the front of the room and wondered just what had possessed him to agree to this. Not even a month there and the Director had approached him the day after the dance to invite him to the cafe.

"The cafe?" Reid echoed uncertainly. "I do have time. Is something wrong?"

The Director waved a hand. "Not at all. I just want to suggest an idea to you and discuss it with you. How about I treat you to a coffee and we can talk?"

It wasn't long before they were both seated at a table under an umbrella and sipping at iced coffees. "So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I have to say, Dr. Reid, that you are one of the more gifted individuals I've ordered brought in," the Director told him. "Even among the other gifted, you stand out."

Reid shrugged and looked down at the table. "I don't know about that."

"You should give yourself more credit," the Director assured him. "It's clear to me that you've been working very hard at settling in. I can see that you've been attending your classes and activities faithfully and you've been making an effort to mix with other residents. On the whole, I am very pleased with you."

Reid shrugged again, feeling uncomfortable. "I know from my work that a kidnapping victim who only sits and worries about his situation just makes it harder for himself. Adjusting to a new life is difficult enough."

The Director gave him a warm smile. "I'm pleased to hear you considering your situation in such a beneficial manner, Dr. Reid. Very, very pleased. Still, I have noticed that at times you seem to be having difficulties."

Reid's chest tightened. "What do you mean?"

"I always observe each of my new arrivals, and while there have been times when you seem to have settled in, there are other times when your voice is just a touch too loud, your movements too quick, and your smile a bit too wide. It's like you have a great deal of nervous energy that you're trying to expend, and I think often you're not even aware of it. You're still feeling nervous and agitated a great deal, aren't you?"

Reid took a sip of coffee to give himself time to think. "What will happen to me if I say yes?"

The Director gave him a fatherly smile and patted his hand, making Reid jump. "Nothing bad at all. I don't wish my residents to feel bad or to be miserable. What kind of caretaker would I be if I allowed that to happen? No, I asked you here today to talk to you and to offer a few options that might make things a little easier for you."

Reid's attention sat up and took notice. "How so?"

"There are a few options. The first is that I can request to have Dr. White set you up with a counselor. Talking about your situation and your feelings about it may help relieve them."

Reid thought about it. He'd sat down with a counselor before, but only a few times, and most often only when required to by the FBI. He wasn't sure about the impartiality of any counselor here, though. "Let me think about that one. You mentioned a few options? What else could we try in the meantime?"

The Director nodded as if he weren't surprised by Reid skirting the issue of a counselor. "Some more physical activity may help; you could burn off all that nervous energy, but I know that you do have some issues with coordination that make such things challenging for you."

Reid fought down a laugh and cleared his throat to cover it. "You're understating the case, actually." His yoga class that morning had been an embarrassment. "Any other options?"

"A round of relaxation," the Director continued. "You'd be going to the wellness center each day for some massages and other activities designed to induce relaxation."

A stranger putting their hands all over him? "Um...I'm not really comfortable with that idea. _Please_ tell me there's another option."

"Teaching classes."

Reid's brain refused to process the Director's answer. "Classes?"

"You'd be putting that formidable brain of yours to work," the Director elaborated. "You'd be working on designing your instruction, planning your lectures, constructing projects for your students, and conducting your own research. You have PhDs in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering and bachelor's degrees in sociology, psychology, and philosophy. I know there are other subjects you could teach, as well. How does something like this sound?"

Reid stared at him. "You're serious? What about when I start working on projects? Would I still be able to teach?"

The Director considered Reid's question thoughtfully. "I think that could be arranged, as long as you agreed to enough leisure time so you're not overwhelmed. While the mind thrives on stimulation, too much can be detrimental, as I'm sure you're aware. What do you think?"

Reid thought about it. It sounded...well, fun! He enjoyed teaching the occasional class when one of the nearby universities invited him and he thrived on the intellectual challenge of designing and planning courses, so this sounded ideal. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," the Director assured him. "How soon would you like to start teaching? I can make arrangements for you."

Ideas rushed through Reid's mind. "If I started teaching next week, do I still have to go to the rest of my activities this week?"

"I'm afraid that's still required of you, Dr. Reid, and you'll still need to sign up for a few next week."

Reid sighed. "Oh, well. Can't have everything, I suppose."

The Director gave Reid a warm smile but didn't say anything.

"I'd love to teach," Reid said at last, thinking about a mathematics course that he'd like to start with. He had a strong feeling Mara would sign up for it once she heard about it.

The Director's smile widened and he positively beamed at Reid. "Wonderful! I'll make the arrangements and then send you word about when and where and so forth. Think about the course you'd like to teach and then send me a message outlining it and you'll be able to teach next week."

That was how Reid had come to be standing in this lecture hall in the arts center. Reid's class had been listed in the campus newsletter the very next day and he'd gotten his class roster that morning. Mara, of course, had signed up to take the three week course, and to Reid's surprise, James had signed up as well. He hadn't struck Reid as a math person, but he supposed people had hidden depths. Reid hadn't recognized any other names on the roster, but he was looking forward to getting to know them, once he got over his case of first-class nerves. No matter how often he taught a class, he always felt a little nervous beforehand.

Mara was the first to arrive, rushing in the door and struggling to pull a notebook out of her bag at the same time. "Hi, Reid!" she said happily, waving as she practically skipped to a seat in the front row.

"Hi," Reid said, trying his best to hide how amused he was at her enthusiasm. "Having trouble with your bag?"

She dropped into a seat with a sigh. "Always. I shouldn't buy spiral-bound notebooks since they always get stuck on the stupid zipper, but I never remember that until I'm wrestling the notebook out of my bag."

"How about I remind you?" Reid suggested. "If I see you with another spiral-bound notebook, I'll remind you to buy something different."

"Deal!" Mara said brightly, then she looked at the board. "So, what's Holistic Mathematics?"

Reid grinned. "Well, it's mathematics taught from a conceptual perspective and it takes into account historical figures and their discoveries and the historical milieu of the time. I think you'll like it. Remember how excited you were when we covered Euler and Gauss?"

She bounced in her seat. "Oh, I can't wait! What's taking everybody so long to get here?"

Other students started trickling in then, and Reid took their names as they arrived. The only person that hadn't shown up had been James. Reid waited a few minutes for him, just in case, but finally he started the course. "Good afternoon, everyone. I am Dr. Spencer Reid, and this is Holistic Mathematics. Thank you for being here. In this class, we're going to be studying mathematics as it relates to history and the prevailing philosophical thought of the time, and we'll be covering primes, combinatorics, infinity, and…"

The door banged open, startling all of them, and Reid got a shock when he saw Bell wrestling James into the room. For a moment, he just stared, then his teacher brain kicked in. "Excuse me, but what is going on here?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Bell panted once he'd wrestled James into a chair. "Mr. Norwood here was being difficult about being where he was supposed to be."

James surged to his feet and shoved Bell away from him. "We're not going through that again! I told you that you can bring me here, you can keep me on a short leash, but you can't make me settle in and join in activities as if nothing's the matter!"

"I can always go to the Director and tell him that you're being violent," Bell threatened, and Spencer saw a few of his fellow residents pale.

Reid got between them. "I'm sure that won't be necessary," he said quickly. "You've gotten him here and since this is where he's supposed to be, then there's no problem, right? Could we get started with the class, please?"

Bell gave one final glare to James, but he nodded and moved to stand in the back of the room. James dropped into his seat, and Reid returned to the front of the room.

"Okay, as I was saying, we're going to cover primes, combinatorics, infinity, topology, and other major concepts in mathematics." Reid turned to the whiteboard and picked up a marker to start writing. "Our first concept is primes. Primes are the fundamental building blocks of mathematics and there are an infinite number of primes. The fundamental theorem of arithmetic states that each whole number can be broken down uniquely into a product of primes. The concept of a 'number' actually predates written language, and numbers and primes have been known to humanity for the past 20,000 years. Now, when you study primes, you must keep in mind that they are infinite. The largest prime number ever found consisted of…"

While Reid taught and wrote notes on the board, he kept an eye on his learners. Mara was watching him intently and jotting down notes in her notebook and James was sitting in his seat, doodling in a notebook of his own. Bell was still hovering in the back of the room, and the others were studiously ignoring him. To say that the atmosphere in the room was tense would be an understatement. Bell's threat hung heavy in the air and Reid hoped sincerely that no one was going to be punished for James's outburst.

An hour and a half later and Spencer wrapped the class up, providing some handouts to his students as they headed out the door. Mara hung back for a question and Spencer was just packing his bag when he realized that James was still in his seat and watching him.

"I hope you weren't too bored," Spencer said, sensing that James wanted to talk to him.

"Nah, you're a pretty good speaker," James told him. "What you were talking about is interesting, too. I never went to college, so hearing a lecture like that was a new experience for me. I just went straight into the police academy."

"I bet you learned some interesting stuff there," Reid said, thinking of Derek's stories about being in the police. "My coworker was with the police before joining the BAU and it was always great to hear him talk about it."

James left his seat and moved to where Reid was standing. "I was wondering if I could get your professional opinion as a profiler." His voice was low enough that Reid was sure Bell couldn't hear it from where he was watching.

"With what?"

James pulled out a folded paper from his pocket and unfolded it. "The Director gave me my new schedule this morning at breakfast. Practically everything I've been signed up for is academic, and the two activities that aren't academic in nature are designed to preserve my physical and mental health. I didn't choose any of these activities, and I was wondering if you could take a guess as to why the Director would do this."

Reid examined the schedule. James was signed up for Spencer's course, a course on the Age of Reason, English Literature of the 19th Century, Essay and Broadside Writing, Botany of Central America, Singlestick, and Mindfulness. Broadly, the classes could fall into categories like mathematics, history, literature, writing, science, physical education, and health. His brain rushed to the answer almost right away, but his conscious mind refused to take it in for a moment. "It looks like...hmmm."

"What?"

"It looks like the Director is trying to educate you."

Reid had never seen anyone look so confused in his life. " _Why_?"

"That, I couldn't tell you," Reid admitted. "While the curriculum is advanced, it covers all the major subject areas in a traditional curriculum. Just what his purpose was in signing you up for this could be anyone's guess."

Bell left his post at the back of the room and started toward them. "Sorry to break up the re-cap session, gentlemen, but Mr. Norwood's going to be late for his next class if he doesn't get a move on."

Reid glanced at Bell and checked his watch. "Ah, I'm going to be late, too. Would you like to meet me for a game of chess later? Say, around 4:30 at the Green?"

"Sounds great; you can teach me how to play," James said, grabbing his bag. "See you then."

Reid grabbed his own bag and headed into the hall and toward the other end of the building. This week, in addition to teaching a mathematics class, he was taking a class on papermaking and bookbinding, and another class on woodworking. He'd done a short, two-hour class on bookbinding his first week, but he wanted to do more. He'd enjoyed making his wooden wall art map and he found himself signing up for another class with Hector strictly on woodworking, and he was looking forward to it. The following week Wendy was going to be teaching a class on calligraphy and he had already signed up for that.

Reid's feet came to a halt suddenly as panic built in his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? Here he was, a kidnap victim and a prisoner, and he was looking forward to taking part in the activities that his kidnapper had arranged to distract him from his situation. A feeling of unreality settled on him then, constricting his chest and making his breathing shallow and quick. Feeling as if he couldn't get any air, Spencer rushed outside and crouched on the lawn, shaking and fighting to get a deep breath.

His mind seemed to take a step back from the world then, and he had vague images of one of the staff finding him and trying to get him to answer him, then he was sitting inside a car, and then there was a mishmash of sights and sounds that indicated he was in the wellness center. He came back to himself, lying down in a bed in a dim, comfortable room. He felt as if he'd been flattened by a steamroller. He shifted in the bed and then sat up, pushing the light blanket off of him. When had he arrived there? More importantly, who had undressed him and put him to bed?

A knock on the door startled him, and he put a hand on his chest to calm himself. "Come in."

A nurse peeked in at him and then grinned, striding in when he saw that Spencer was sitting up. "Hey, there," he said, coming over to stand by the bed. "Feeling better?"

"I think so," Reid said uncertainly as the nurse pushed a button to raise the back of the bed for him. "What happened?"

"Dr. White says that it was a panic attack, but he'll be in in a few minutes to talk to you about it. Is it okay if I take your vitals?"

Reid nodded and the nurse took a sphygmomanometer off the wall and a stethoscope from around his neck. "I must say, you look a lot better than you did when you were brought in."

Reid stayed quiet while his blood pressure was being taken and then spoke once the cuff was taken off his arm. "I still have no idea what happened. One second I was in the arts center and then the next, I was here. When did I go to bed?"

"An orderly and I put you to bed when Dr. White said that you needed to rest and relax, and you couldn't do that fully dressed." He looked at Reid and gave him a teasing grin. "What, did you think some hot lady nurse undressed you?"

"I was kind of worried about that, actually," Reid confessed. He checked the nurse's ID. "How long have you worked here, Nathaniel?"

"Just Nate," the nurse told him. "Two years, and it's been the best job I've ever had. The perks are incredible."

"I bet," Reid said flatly. "You do know, don't you, that all the residents are kidnapping victims?"

Nate glanced at him and then away. "Yes, I was told that when I signed on."

"And you're _okay_ with that?"

Nate glanced at him again and took his pulse. "I was told that there's always a good reason why anyone's here. I'd suggest that you think about yours, and then think about what others' reasons might be. Not just residents, I mean." Nate jotted down Reid's pulse and took his temperature before jotting that down as well. He slipped the sheet into a manila folder, placed it in a holder on Reid's door, and left, closing the door behind him.

Reid thought about it. What had Nate been implying? Good reasons for being there. Okay. He was pretty sure that meant that...what? His tired brain was refusing to cooperate. Sighing, he dropped back into the pillows and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He must have fallen into a doze because he jerked awake when he sensed someone nearby.

"Ah, you're with us," Dr. White said, giving Reid a warm smile. "How do you feel, Dr. Reid?"

"Like I want to go back to sleep," Reid said truthfully. "Why am I so tired?"

"A panic attack like you experienced can leave you feeling exhausted," Dr. White explained, giving Spencer's knee a pat. "Can you tell me what happened or what you were doing just before you started feeling strange?"

How could he explain? Before he could stop it, his mouth betrayed him. "You'll probably report it to the Director."

Dr. White nodded. "Is that why you're reluctant to share it with me?"

"I don't want him to know. I wasn't breaking any rules; I can promise you that, but I don't want him to know, all the same."

"So, it was something you were thinking about?" Dr. White pulled a chair over next to Reid's bed and sat down. "If you're following established patterns of behavior, then ten to one you were thinking about your activities and you remembered the exact parameters of your situation and then became overwhelmed. Does that sound about right?"

Reid stared at him as if the man had just pulled a rabbit out of his ear.

"Thought so," Dr. White said, making a note in Reid's chart. "Like I said, there are patterns of behavior we can expect. Most patients I've seen break down long before you have, which says something for your mental fortitude, but inevitably, everyone who's brought here goes through this."

"Oddly enough, that doesn't make me feel better," Reid said flatly. "What happens now?"

"Generally, I keep such patients overnight and keep an eye on you to make sure you're all right. What you need most right now is rest," Dr. White told him. "However, if you feel well enough _and_ if you agree to spend tomorrow resting in your quarters, I can release you."

Reid thought about it. He was not a fan of hospitals in any way, shape, or form, but the idea of getting out of that bed and making his way all the way to Beech seemed a bit daunting. "Would I be walking or biking back?"

"A car would take you."

That decided him. "I'd feel better in my room, I think."

"All right," Dr. White agreed. "I'll arrange for a car to pick you up in an hour and take you back. Until then, you rest here. When you feel up to it, go ahead and dress; your clothes are in the cupboard in the corner."

"What about meals?" Reid asked, doubting he'd be hungry, but he wanted to make sure all the same. "They're mandatory, aren't they?"

"I'll inform the dining hall and the Director so he's not wondering where you are. How's that?"

Reid nodded. "That's fine. Can I close my eyes now?"

"If you fall asleep, I'll keep you here overnight," Dr. White cautioned. "I wasn't joking when I said you needed to rest. Falling asleep immediately after something like this is not a good sign. It's in no way dangerous, but it's not a good sign."

Reid nodded. "I won't. I just want to rest for a few minutes."

Dr. White rose from his chair and moved it back to where he'd gotten it. "All right. I'll be back in an hour for you."

Reid settled back in the bed and wrapped up in the blanket like a caterpillar. There was something about wrapping up in a knitted blanket when you were feeling bad that was just comforting. He let his mind drift for a few minutes and almost fell back into a doze when he made himself get up and dress. He really wanted to get back to his room and crawl into his bed and not think for a while. He moved to the chair that Dr. White had vacated and was ready to go when Dr. White came for him. "Any better?"

"Some better," Reid said, standing up and stretching. "I can promise I'll stay in Beech tomorrow; I feel ready to do nothing more than relax and take it easy."

"That's exactly what I expect you to do. Nate has a wheelchair for you, he'll wheel you down to the doors and then you'll be driven to Beech. I'll expect you back in three days for a follow-up at my office, all right? The day after tomorrow, you'll be clear for moderate activity and a great deal of relaxing; I'll set it up with the Director. I'll see you soon."

Reid thanked him just as Nate showed up with the chair, and Reid was quiet all through check-out and the drive back to Beech. Keller had been his driver and he went inside Beech with Reid and saw him to his room and he didn't leave until Reid had curled up on his bed.

"Hey, kid?"

Reid looked up at Keller. "What?"

"I have to say, a lot of people like you, me included. A lot of residents try to take a bit of revenge on us once they're here, but you haven't. I appreciate that. Hope you feel better soon."

Reid hadn't thought that Keller had the depth of feeling for something like this, but once again, Reid was encountering a person with hidden depths. "Thanks."

"Anything I can get you?"

Reid looked to the bookshelves. " _The Mysterious Island_. And _Gulliver's Travels._ I feel like reading some adventure stories."

Keller fetched the books for him and Reid was deep in the story of Cyrus Smith and his fellow castaways when someone knocked on his door. "Come in."

The door opened to reveal the Director. "Dr. White told me you had a bad turn."

"I suppose," Reid said, sitting up and leaning against the headboard of his bed. "He said that usually happens with residents."

"Unfortunately, yes," the Director admitted. "Often, I think to myself that if I can keep them amused and pleasantly busy it won't happen, but it almost always does."

"If you know it happens, why do you kidnap people, then?" Reid snapped.

The Director held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I didn't come here to argue with you, Dr. Reid. I stopped by to let you know that arrangements have been made for meals to be brought to your room for you, and your friends will be allowed to visit you tomorrow, if you like. Now, it's your day to send a letter to your mother; did you want to write one today and have me send it, or did you want to wait a few days?"

Reid shook his head. "No, I'll write one today," he said quickly.

The Director nodded. "All right. Give it to the staff member who comes to take your dinner tray away and I'll see that it gets to her. I hope you're feeling better soon, Dr. Reid."

With that, the Director left. Reid waited until he was sure he was really gone before getting up and rifling in his backpack. He pulled out a pen, some paper, and an envelope, took a seat at the table, and started to write.

A/N: As you can see, the plot bunny still has me grasped in its diabolical fluffy paws. Ransom is now off the table and I am doomed to be writing for the foreseeable future. Someone send a care package via the sympathetic carrier pigeon, if you see him.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 _Dear Mom,_

 _Things have been pretty good here-I've been pleasantly busy. Well, really busy. I was a bit_ _ **too**_ _busy, according to the staff. I ended up in the infirmary for a check up when I had some trouble this morning, and as a result, I am having to rest for the next few days. I'm bored already._

 _I told myself not to worry you and see how I start? Really, though, I'm fine. A bit bored, though. My room is pleasant, but it's boring when I'm in there for a long time. I'd rather be in the library reading or out on the Green playing chess, or heck, even in the arts center in the middle of a class._

 _That brings me to a bit of news. The director asked me to teach a class, and I held my first one this morning. A good number of people showed up and I had one girl ambush me for questions afterward! They'll have to do without me for the next few days while I rest up but I'll be back to teaching soon. I plan to finish my first class on mathematics-Mara's signed up for it and she's crazy about math, so I think she's going to insist on finishing! I think the next class I give will be on engineering mathematics, or maybe chemistry. I was writing a lecture before I left home on where the concept of phlogiston came from and how it influenced scientific research, so maybe someone would be interested in hearing about it._

 _I finished all the classes I told you about in my last letter, and this time I'm signed up for a woodworking class, a papermaking and bookbinding class, and a calligraphy class. Once I've finished that class, my handwriting will be a thing of beauty. If I'd taken a woodworking class when I'd been younger, I probably would have made you a spice rack. I think, though, with this class I'll make you something a tad more useful. A bookshelf, maybe? I've never made paper before and I hope that it won't be too messy. My gut's telling me that it will be. Whatever, I hope the results end up nice._

 _I promised to tell you about the dance: Mom, it was better than the prom! The theme was "A Midsummer Night's Dream," and everything was fairy-themed! It was held at the lodge and the decorations should have won an award! There were trees with twinkling lights in them, little pools of water with floating candles and flowers, and inside the lodge there were nature sounds, more miniature trees full of lights, a fountain with water and lights (I found it hidden in a corner), and overhead was a CGI screen that mimicked the night sky outside. Every now and then you could spot an animated fairy fly by overhead-it was awesome! I don't think I saw the same fairy twice-whoever set that up put a ton of effort into it! And the food! Everything was forest-themed or fairy-themed! There were tiny chocolate logs filled with chocolate liqueur, meringue mushrooms, little cakes made to look like ponds, little marzipan animals...yeah, they were almost too pretty to eat. ALMOST. Before you ask, yes, I did dance. The people I danced with were forgiving after I'd stepped on their toes, but to be fair, I had warned them beforehand. One of my new friends was a little tipsy, I think, from the chocolate logs, but his friends made sure he got home okay. I got back to my room and fell asleep right away; I was worn out. In case you were wondering, I was given a tuxedo to wear. Everyone said I looked distinguished,but I think I looked like a distinguished penguin._

 _You're probably wondering what my meals have been like lately. I assure you, I have been eating and not just living on coffee, like you say I do. This morning breakfast was pretty good: I had home fries and a vegetable omelet with cheese and sausage. They have a coffee bar here in the dining hall, but it's nothing compared to the number of teas they have on offer. I'm thinking of trying a new one every day and seeing how long it takes me to sample all of them._

 _I've made a new friend called James. He's just arrived and when I first met him I thought he was pretty violent an individual, but now I think it was just jet lag making him irritable. We get along pretty well-he was a police officer before he came here and he surprised me by being signed up for my class. He's a pleasure to talk to. We're supposed to get together soon so I can teach him how to play chess. I wonder if he's ever played Othello? I think he'd be good at it._

 _My room came pre-supplied with bookshelves and fortunately, they are full. They should last me for the couple of days I have to spend resting. If I get really bored, I'll go downstairs to the common room and watch TV. One of the staff is hovering around me to make sure I rest and it's a real challenge not to snap at him that I'm fine. Hopefully, I'll be able to have some visitors. Maybe I can convince my doctor that boredom is hazardous to my health. I won't even have to go to the dining hall since I'm on complete rest-one of the staff is going to bring my meals to me. I kind of want to send a message to the dining hall: "Please send pizza!" but I guess my meals are most likely going to be a surprise for the next few days. Maybe I can work out a kind of signaling system using Morse code? Flags? A carrier pigeon, maybe? I'll have to think about it._

 _I meant to write a longer letter but the man who brought my lunch for me is waiting to take this letter to the post office for me. I'll write again soon, and in the meantime, take care of yourself, okay? I love you._

 _Spencer_

Hotch looked down at the copy of the letter he held and massaged the back of his neck. Plenty of information in this letter, too, but they were no closer to finding Reid. He was sure that there was a message in it, but he couldn't figure out what. One thing was certain, Reid had certainly added plenty of "marks" to certain letters to show which ones they needed. They'd run decryption on the last one and they were running decryption on this one, but so far, they had nothing.

A knock on the door frame brought him out of his thoughts. "Hi, Prentiss."

"Hi," she said, entering Hotch's office. "Still trying to decipher that letter?"

"I feel as if I stare at it long enough, whatever message Reid's sending will become clear."

"If only it were that easy," she sighed, taking a seat across from him. "I came by to let you know that Rossi heard from his friend. He said that there's been another disappearance that he thinks is connected to Reid's and to the other disappearances that Penelope found. A police officer named James Norwood."

Hotch's brows knit in thought. "A police officer? What's his distinguishing characteristics?"

"Nothing that matches him up with the other victims," she confessed. "He's an excellent cop, active in his community, well-liked by everyone and he just...disappeared. Rossi said that his friend is adamant that the same guys who kidnapped Reid took Officer Norwood."

"What makes him so sure?"

She smiled. "Rossi says his friend is meticulous about keeping records of certain things. They're on their way."

"I'm amazed a guy like that would keep records," Hotch admitted. "Wouldn't he be afraid of the government using them against him?"

She shrugged. "No idea, but he says they're on the way. How are you holding up?"

"I feel like I have Frankenstein's monster tap-dancing on my brain," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I keep waiting for the epiphany that'll help us find Reid."

"Yeah, we're all hoping for similar epiphanies ourselves." She looked her boss up and down. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Who keeps track of things like that?" Aaron wondered. "I promise; I'll catch a nap."

Emily nodded. "Okay. I'll let Penelope know that you promised."

Hotch cut his eyes at Emily. "She's going to hound me until I actually take one, isn't she?"

"You know her so well."

"She said she was doing some things," Hotch said, changing the subject. "Any news?"

"None that she's shared. I stopped in her office about a half-hour ago to ask her if she wanted any dinner but she just grumbled something about being interrupted and tossed a pen at me. I took the hint and left."

Hotch nodded, remembering how savage their analyst could get when she was on a mission. Then, Emily's words sank in. "Dinner? When was lunch?"

"About five hours ago now," she said, sounding as if she were trying to hold onto her patience. "I stopped in at lunchtime to see if you wanted anything, but you're almost as bad as Penelope. When I told you that lunch was here earlier, you just sort of grunted and didn't look up. I gave up after the third try. You've got to be hungry by now. Are you?"

As if to mock him, his stomach roared at him and shook his backbone. "Um, yes. What's for dinner?"

"We had one of the hometown restaurants deliver," she told him, smiling when he left his chair. "We've got roast beef, mashed potatoes, rolls, green peas, carrots, sweet tea, and lemon pound cake for dessert. You'd better hurry before we eat it all. Derek's already gone back for seconds."

His stomach complained again and Hotch gave in to the inevitable. He joined the rest of his team in the conference room and fixed himself a plate, listening to them talk and batting theories back and forth.

"How many peninsulas can there be with the stuff Reid described?" Derek wondered, digging into a slice of cake.

"Apparently too many for us to check them one by one," J.J. stated, sipping tea. "We have to narrow them down some way."

Penelope wandered in then, clutching a stack of stapled papers and looking worse than Aaron had ever seen her look. She had dark circles under her eyes, her hair was...well, everywhere, and she looked as if life had put her through the wringer and then some. She was almost to the table when she stumbled and dropped her papers. The person closest to her, Derek, got up and started to help her put them back in order. Once they were arranged she started to stand up, but when her eyes were level with the table she let out a screech and dropped the papers again.

"Baby Girl?" Derek said, sounding alarmed. "What's the matter?"

"Ohmigosh!" Penelope cried, reaching out and snatching a paper off the table. "He drew us a map!"

"What?" Emily asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"A map!" Penelope repeated loudly, waving the paper around. "A map! He drew us a map!"

She stopped and looked around the room. "Why is everybody staring at me as if I'm crazy?! I'm telling you, Reid drew us a map in his first letter!"

"We've all been staring at that thing since Diana gave it to us," Derek reminded her. "I've yet to see any map."

"That's because we weren't looking at it the right way!" she said, practically bouncing in her excitement. "I saw it when I was standing up. You can't look directly, you have to look obliquely at the letter and the image becomes clear!" So saying, she held the paper close to Morgan's eye level and tilted it slowly.

"Holy crap," Derek grasped when he saw what she was talking about. "Holy crap! I see it!"

People crowded around immediately to take a look. Hotch watched as she tilted the letter for him and the tails and dashes Reid had included in his handwriting coalesced into an actual map, showing a peninsula, with buildings and paths and a park...how had Reid managed this? "Incredible," Aaron said at last. "Penelope, do you think you can manipulate this in the computer and use any resulting images to scan and search for matches?"

"'Can I do it?' he asks," Penelope scoffs. "If I can't, then I'd like you to find someone who could! I'll be in my office!"

Hotch watched her go, then remembered that she had yet to eat anything. Feeling a sense of hope burgeoning in his chest, Aaron fixed his tech analyst a plate and took it down to her office for her. She was busily typing away at her keyboard and scanning the code on her monitor. Aaron left the plate on the corner of her desk and headed back to rejoin the rest of his team.

They had a lead.

* * *

Spencer leaned back into his pillows and sighed. He was still "on rest" as it was called, and he absolutely hated it. He was so bored! He'd read everything in his room, all the books in the common room, and he was allowed to have visitors, but only fifteen minutes at a time. For some reason that he really didn't understand, any person "on rest" had a member of security with them to make sure they didn't overdo. Sometimes, out of sheer boredom, he took naps, but they never lasted very long. He'd been cleared for light activity, but whenever he went to the Green Keller was there to keep an eye on him. That was hardly relaxing, so usually after a half-hour or so he would give up and head back to his room. What he really wanted to do was spend a couple of hours in the library, but Keller had put the kibosh on that idea when Reid suggested it.

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. "Come in."

Sean opened the door. "Hi, Reid. How are you?"

"Perishing for company," Reid said happily, sitting up. "It's great to see you!"

"We all miss you," Sean admitted, taking a seat in the chair near Reid's bed. "How much longer do you have to rest?"

"Dr. White examined me yesterday; he said at least another day. He doesn't realize that I'm bored out of my skull."

Sean grinned at him. "Well, I brought you something that might help with the boredom." He handed Reid a cloth shopping bag. "Here you go. Open it up and take a look."

Reid returned Sean's smile and opened the bag. Inside it was a 3,000 piece jigsaw puzzle, four puzzle books, some magazines, and three brain teaser toys. "I see someone went shopping."

"I had so many credits built up that I decided to splurge," Sean said with a shrug. "Call it a care package. There's this, too."

Inside that bag were books from the library. "Yes!" Reid exclaimed, ready to hug Sean. "This is awesome!"

"Glad I could help," Sean said, leaning forward so he was close to Reid. "I came to tell you something."

Reid leaned forward as well and lowered his voice. "What is it?"

"James has disappeared."

Reid felt his heart beat double-time for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"I think he's taken it into his head to try getting out of here. The security staff are running around and trying to look as if they're not looking for him, but he's gone for sure. Usually when the Director doles out punishment it's the recently arrived who have to bear it, so please, be careful, okay?"

Reid nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Have you seen anything to make you think that...well, that they might come after me?"

"No, but then, I wouldn't. We never see it coming until after someone's been put in isolation."

Reid fought down a shiver. "I see. I'll keep my eyes and ears open."

Sean clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll do the same. I'd better go before your watch dog gets snarly at how long I'm taking."

"I don't see why he does," Reid admitted. "It's not like I'm not resting."

"Ten to one, in his mind, resting is resting and talking is talking and the two cannot coexist."

"You're most likely right."

Sean left after wishing Reid a speedy recovery and Reid immediately grabbed the bag of books and started looking them over. He'd finished all the books in his room and the few in the common room and re-reading them just seemed like an exercise in futility and boredom. He'd missed having new reading material since finishing all the books he had at his disposal.

The past few days had been strange for him. He spent most of his time either curled up on his bed or on the sofa or in one of the chairs, reading. When he finished his books, he started over again, just to keep his mind occupied. When he was really bored, he went downstairs to the common room and turned on the television. There were plenty of channels and it was nice to channel surf. He had switched on the major news channels, just to see if there was anything pertaining to his situation, but there was nothing. It was likely that a media-blackout had been enacted for security purposes. The FBI could be a bit...touchy...about someone messing with their agents. He was thankful for such a thing, really. God knew that he didn't want anyone who knew his mother seeing it and then stopping by to talk to her about it. She didn't need that kind of upsetting conversation in her life.

Whenever he could, he would watch documentaries, historical series, and similar shows so he could keep his mind engaged and active. One surprising thing was that he was enjoying watching cooking shows. He watched _The Great British Baking Show_ and found himself cheering the competitors on and feeling overawed at the items they managed to create. At one point he took mental notes on a Genoise cake. He'd really enjoyed the one he'd had during his last meal with the Director and he wanted to try re-recreating it himself.

If he wasn't reading or watching television, he was in his room, writing in the journal he'd made in his first bookbinding class. He would fill pages each time he wrote, packing the book with his thoughts about home and his friends, his mom, and his situation. He was finally unleashing every single feeling he'd kept firmly tamped down all this time, and sometimes his writing sessions would end in tears, but he always wiped his face clean, blew his nose, and went back to writing.

It helped. It was amazing how much it helped. He'd been so scared and so mind-numbingly horrified about his situation and the fact that yes, he had been kidnapped and was being held prisoner in a place that made no sense that he hadn't allowed himself to feel much of what was happening _when_ it was actually happening. Now, he felt as if he could see things with much clearer eyes. He'd been doing a great deal of thinking since he started writing, and using the skills he'd learned at the BAU, he'd begun considering his situation as a profiler, rather than as a victim, and some interesting ideas had surfaced.

Motive-wise, very little the Director had done had made sense. How the campus was run, however, made a great deal of sense. The Director needed to keep his prisoners' morale up, so he insisted on social interaction and on their participating in activities. Being social and doing and learning new things had been proven to have positive effects on mental well-being. He'd read plenty of studies on the same topic when they'd been published. Another beneficial thing had been building a campus that was inviting and enticed people outside. There were always people in the Green and the hiking and walking paths were always being used. The grounds were designed to encourage people to spend time outside and enjoy their surroundings. Again, there were plenty of studies on the effects of sunlight and the outdoors on mental and physical health. Providing them with plenty of choices in activities, meals, and the chance to shop on their own in the exchange allowed them to feel as if they had choices in their lives, which again, was beneficial for mental well-being. They were illusive choices, but choices all the same. Housing them in communal cottages and making meals mandatory would ensure that they would have plenty of socialization outside of activities. Requiring the first three months to be nothing but fun activities and not in their preferred area of research made them all too eager to start working when a project was offered.

That brought Reid back to the question of the projects that the prisoners worked on. One of the most lucrative things in business was the Next Big Idea or something that was Cutting Edge. It was fully probable that the Director was holding them all there so he could have his own top of the line Research and Development team. If anyone had told him about this place and the situation all of the residents were facing, he would have said that it sounded like quite the stretch...if he hadn't been there and living it for himself, however. It was like living in a sci-fi television show, but the only problem was that no one ever said "Cut!" Just like he'd covered in hundreds of cases, the number one motive in kidnapping was financial gain. This new scenario that Reid had constructed in his mind fit the bill.

The kindness, though...there was something more to it. Anyone could hold people prisoner and force them to work; it was done all the time in human trafficking. Most human traffickers and people handlers wouldn't waste the time, money, or effort to be kind to their prisoners, though. The threat of violence and psychological manipulation were more effective in making sure that prisoners did not try to escape. No, in bringing them and holding them here and being so kind and making sure they were happy and healthy, the Director was fulfilling some deep psychological need of his own.

He'd been turning these ideas over in his mind ever since he'd first worked them out. All of them made so much sense that he was amazed he hadn't come up with them sooner. Reid reminded himself that being too close to a problem made it difficult to gain perspective on said problem, but the thought still rankled.

When he wasn't writing or thinking, Reid was spending time outside on his balcony people-watching. He could see other residents going about his business and whenever someone Reid knew passed by and saw him, they would wave. The staff who brought him his meals would take a minute or two to chat with him, thank goodness, so his meal times were pleasant. He didn't get to choose what he ate, though, which sucked. Still, the food was good. That afternoon for lunch he'd had loaded baked-potato soup, a French dip sandwich, and strawberry shortcake for dessert. All the meals were like that: heavy on the comfort food. The staff probably felt bad that he was stuck in his room and they were trying to make it up to him.

He curled up on his bed with a book and started reading. He'd read _O Pioneers!_ years ago and had enjoyed reading about Alexandra Bergson and her struggle to make a success of the farm her father had left the family when he died. He especially liked the description of Crazy Ivar, the slightly strange old man who seemed to innately understand animals.

He was on the last page when one of the staff arrived with his dinner tray. Reid felt his mouth water as soon as the aroma of fried chicken and macaroni and cheese hit him. Along with that were buttered green peas, a whole wheat roll with apple butter and cinnamon, and a slice of butterscotch cake with buttercream icing.

"Is the kitchen trying to fatten me up or something?" Reid joked when he saw his tray.

"Nah," Rob said, handing Reid the napkin that held his cutlery. "This is the special, bring-some-joy-to-Reid's-sickbed menu."

"It's hardly a sickbed," Reid protested. "It's more like a bored-bed."

Rob clapped him on the shoulder much like Sean had done. "Well, be glad that it's not gonna last much longer. Someone'll be back later for your tray. Enjoy your dinner."

"Gladly," Reid said, unrolling the napkin and placing it on his lap. "Thanks for bringing it for me."

"You're welcome."

Reid had enjoyed every bite of his dinner and sat on his balcony in his hammock afterward, sipping at a hot cup of tea he'd made in the kitchenette downstairs. He watched the sunset for as long as he could before he headed inside and prepared for bed. He finished _O Pioneers!_ and then picked up _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_. He'd reached the description of Francie's early school days when he found himself unable to keep his eyes open. He fell asleep with the light still on.

The sound of his door opening jerked him awake and he found all four members of WBKJ in his room. They were already pulling the blankets off him when he woke up fully and sat up. "What? What's the matter?"

"You need to come with us," Bell said, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

"Why?" Reid demanded, feeling his stomach sink. This was not good.

"You'll know why once we're there. You can either walk out with us, or we can carry you out, but either way, you're going."

There was nothing he could do; there were four of them and one of him and he was still so, so tired. He was tired from being a prisoner and he was tired from being stressed out and he didn't feel as if he had any more fight in him. "Should I get dressed? Pack a bag?"

"You'll be going back to bed once we get there," Keller told him. "You won't need anything."

Reid pulled on his slippers and robe and allowed them to escort him outside. When he saw the black SUV waiting for them, his last kidnapping reared up in his mind and panic hit. He jerked away and tried to run and as soon as they caught him, he started screaming.

"No! Let go! I don't want to go with you! Leave me alone! I can't do this again!"

Lights started coming on in the cottages as the Evil Four wrestled him into the car. He kept fighting as they pinned him in his seat and fastened the belt and as soon as they pulled away Reid couldn't stop himself from crying. Again. He could hear Bell and Wallace trying to reassure him, but he didn't have any patience for them. Nothing they said could make him feel any better about this.

They drove to the Director's house, pulled him out of the car, up the stairs, and inside. Through the foyer, up some stairs, and into a room. They pushed him down to sit on a bed and when they left, he heard the door lock behind them. That sound made him break again, and he dropped to lie down on the bed, crying as if he hadn't cried at all since he'd been born. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he slept.

A/N: As you can see, I'm still in the plot bunny's grasp. Someone dangle a carrot in front of his nose so I can get a little peace, please.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Aaron's eyes opened and he stretched, feeling a bit better than he had when he'd gone to sleep the night before. True, he almost hadn't gone to sleep, but Rossi had stepped in. Aaron still couldn't believe that they'd all just given in and done as he'd said, but Aaron supposed that being an old profiling hand had helped Rossi get them to do what he wanted.

It had been close to one early that morning when Rossi stood up at the table in the conference room. "Okay, I've got something to say."

Bleary eyes stared up at him, and Aaron brought his head up from the papers he'd been reading. 'What is it, Dave?"

"How much good do you think we're going to do the kid if we're all too exhausted to think?"

"We finally have a lead," Derek reminded him.

"I know."

"So, what's your point?" Emily asked, her brain clearly not working.

"My point is that we've gotten ourselves all so excited over this lead that we've been working non-stop. We need to sleep so we can work better."

"Reid's been kidnapped and he's being held prisoner someplace," Penelope protested. "I don't want him to have to spend a second longer there than necessary."

"They went to a lot of trouble to take Reid alive, which means they have a use for him," Rossi pointed out. "That means they'll keep him alive, and if he's as important to their organization as he is to the BAU, then they'll not just keep him alive, _they're going to take care of him._ "

All of them were too tired to notice the point that Rossi had left out: that Reid might not be as important to his kidnappers as he was to the BAU, but his premise was still true. They'd taken Reid alive, so they had to assume that he was still alive. They had the two letters from him as proof that he was all right.

"All I'm saying is that when you're tired, you miss things," Rossi continued. "What if we miss something that might get Reid home sooner?"

"Okay, put that way, I think I can see where you're going with this," J.J. said after a moment. "You want us all to get some sleep?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," he said, giving her a warm, Rossi smile. "I say we all turn in, get some shut-eye, and then we come back to this after breakfast tomorrow morning. We'll all be much more the thing after some rest and food."

Aaron nodded and got to his feet. "Okay, what you're saying is sensible. We're all going to get some sleep and _not_ at our desks, and we'll meet for breakfast here at eight. We definitely need some rest."

"Wonderful," Rossi said, giving them a beatific smile. "I'll arrange for some bunks for those of us who do not have sofas to crash on."

Rossi was as good as his word. Blankets and pillows had been provided for the sofa sleepers and Emily and Penelope bunked down on cots in J.J's office while J.J. took the sofa she'd somehow squeezed into her office by cunningly re-arranging her filing cabinets and paperwork. Derek bedded down on a cot in Rossi's office, and because he was team leader, Aaron got his office all to himself. He fell asleep almost immediately, and he woke up just after seven. He could understand now why Rossi had insisted they all get some rest: He felt as if his mind had finally woken up. He got up, changed into some workout gear for a short run outside (the sunshine and fresh, bracing air made him feel like a million bucks) before heading back inside to hit the showers and change into one of the suits that he kept at the office. He walked into the conference room just as Rossi was unwrapping their freshly-delivered breakfast.

"You look much better," Dave said, looking up from the aluminum pan of steaming breakfast sandwiches.

"I feel much better," Aaron admitted, taking picking up a paper plate and helping himself to a sandwich. The next pan held fruit salad, so he served himself two big spoonfuls of that and made himself a cup of coffee.

"Well, look who's all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!" Rossi said happily as the rest of the team wandered in. "Breakfast is ready and the coffee is hot. Let's get cracking, huh?"

Everybody fixed themselves plates of food and containers of coffee and settled back into work. They were reviewing Reid's letters, notes on the other victims, and maps of possible locations of where they might be holding Reid. There were a few places that looked likely (privately Hotch wondered why the Fates couldn't favor them and have just one possible location) but the available maps didn't quite match the map Reid had drawn. Such discrepancies were making it difficult to look at any location too closely since they were afraid of wasting time with false leads.

"Agent Rossi?"

Rossi looked up from his papers and nodded at the staff member in the doorway.

"You have a guest, sir. He said that if this isn't a trap, he'd be happy to see you?"

Hotch had never heard anyone sound so confused in his life and Rossi started laughing.

"No, no, bring him up. Tell him I can't wait to see him."

"Yes, sir."

Derek looked over at Rossi. "If it isn't a trap?"

"Looks like he decided to be his own messenger," Rossi said happily. "Remember my old buddy I told you about and he said he would send us some info?"

Emily grinned. "I see."

A minute later the staff member led a man dressed in worn denim and biking boots into the conference room and then he made himself scarce, looking as if he wasn't quite sure what had hit him. The new arrival was thin, whipcord and bone with an attitude. He saw Rossi and grinned. "Dave. See you're still working for the government."

Dave grinned back and got to his feet. "Hi, Scott. Good to see you."

Scott gave Dave a boa constrictor-type hug. "Good to see you, too!" He reached into the leather backpack he was carrying and handed Rossi several manila envelopes. "Here's that information I promised you. If the guilty party is the person I'm thinking of, you guys have your work cut out for you. This guy's been operating for a while and he's got his fingers in a great many pies."

That caught Hotch's attention. "Is there anything you can share with us on him?"

Scott looked at him and a suspicious glint bled into his eyes that matched perfectly with his weathered, whiskered face. "Maybe. Who are you?"

"Scott, allow me to introduce my team," Rossi said grandly. "This is SSA Aaron Hotchner, our team leader. SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Emily Prentiss, SSA J.J. Jareau, our media liaison, and our own Penelope Garcia, technical analyst and communications specialist extraordinaire."

Scott stared around at all of them. "I'm not going to be interrogated and then disappear, am I?"

"No, that's the CIA," Dave joked. "We're the FBI. Totally different place. Besides, if anyone wants to take you, they'll have to go through all of us to do it."

"And I'd lay odds that our baby girl Penelope would be able to make their lives a living hell before they could even get close to you," Derek said, getting up to shake Scott's hand.

Scott looked Derek up and down and shook his hand, and he looked as if he didn't trust Hotch at all, but he was more than gallant with the ladies. Emily fought hard not to break down laughing as he kissed the back of her hand and she glanced at Rossi as if to say, _Yep, I can tell this guy is_ _ **your**_ _friend._

It took very little coaxing on Rossi's part to get Scott to talk to them, and he was there so long that they invited him to stay for lunch. In the intervening hours, they were able to see that the supposed guilty party had managed to build a web of contracts and his own operatives and employees across the world. The one thing that Scott and his contacts hadn't managed to find was the guy's name; the only name anyone ever heard was "Director."

"Fits with Reid's letters," Morgan sighed. "Creepy as all get-out, though."

"What I don't understand is why you drove all this way to bring the information yourself," Rossi said as they dug into soup and hot sandwiches.

"Why trust a messenger when I can just as easily get the job done myself?" Scott pointed out. "Besides, I couldn't let an old buddy of mine go up against this Director character solo. He's dangerous."

"So's my team," Rossi said with a smile that boded no good for the Director. It was only a matter of time before they followed the breadcrumbs Reid had left for them and found him.

* * *

Reid woke up the following morning feeling as if he were shaking apart on the inside. He knew the feeling for what it was; it was shock. He was still struggling to deal with what had happened last night, but his mind had taken refuge in sleep rather than in processing events. Part of him wished he could have stayed asleep rather than wake up, but his body required a few things that he had to take care of.

He sat up in bed and spotted the open door right away, and it led to where he hoped it would lead. It was a plain bathroom, with a toilet, sink, and shower stall, and that was it. Towels and other linens and supplies were in a cabinet in the corner. He took care of the needful, washed his hands, splashed water on his face, and then took several long swallows of water from the tap. He was thirsty after being asleep so long, but he had no idea just how long he'd been out.

He returned to the bedroom after that. Like the bathroom, it was a plain and bare room. No pictures on the wall, no television, no bookshelves, no rugs on the wooden floor, and there was only one small window above his head on the far wall. A mirror was built into the right-hand wall and Spencer scoffed when he saw it. After spending years working at the BAU, he could recognize a two-way mirror when he saw it. There was no furniture aside from the bed, a small bedside table with a lamp on it, and a table and chair. A plastic carafe holding water and a drinking tumbler stood on the table, so he poured himself a glass of water and drank it down before crawling back into bed. If it were possible, he would spend as much time as he could asleep so he didn't have to be awake.

It took a few minutes, but he did fall back asleep and was so deeply asleep that he was dreaming when a sound made him start to wake up. He fought against it, tried to stay asleep, but a lovely aroma scented by his body was making him wake up against his will. He awoke to the smell of buttered toast and sat up. A breakfast tray had been left on the table. Briefly he debated going back to sleep, but his stomach demanded food, now. He went to the table and examined the tray: buttered toast, a carton of milk, a bowl of frosted flakes, a container of strawberry yogurt, and a banana. A plain meal in a painfully plain room. Oh, well. He made short work of it and went back to bed. The carbs should put him back to sleep with no problem.

He woke again at a similar sound a few hours later and saw that another tray had been left. Beef stew with plenty of vegetables, bread and butter, an apple, and another carton of milk. The water carafe had been re-filled and the breakfast tray had been taken away. He wasn't really hungry, so he left most of the food on the tray and lay back down, still tired to his core. A great deal of stress in a short time could cause fatigue, and at the moment, Spencer really didn't care that he was experiencing it. He just wanted to sleep.

He woke later to the sound of thunder, sometime in the mid-afternoon, perhaps. With a groan he lifted himself out of bed and wandered into the bathroom, still sleepy. He used the facilities, washed his hands, and burrowed back into the pillows and blankets. He wondered briefly what Sean and the others were doing, then decided to change his line of thought. Thinking about what everyone else was doing while he was stuck in this room was not the way to go! Instead, he started thinking about Zeno's paradoxes. Could anyone ever get anywhere if they always had half a distance to go before they covered half the distance and so on to their destination? Was all travel just an illusion?

He fell asleep with his mind still considering distances. His thoughts continued in his dreams, with his mind considering distances and how mankind measured them and thought about them. Maps and lines of latitude and longitude flashed through his head, aligning themselves and then re-aligning around the mental map he kept in his mind of the campus. Numbers flashed through his mind's eye and a final pattern solidified.

A loud bang jerked him awake, startling him so badly that he almost toppled off the bed. What the hell was happening _now_?

"I said let go of me!" Reid heard James's muffled voice bellow.

"You are going to see what your actions have caused!" Reid heard the Director bellow back. "You knew the rules and you knew what would happen if you broke them!"

There was the sound of a scuffle and then a metallic thump. It sounded like someone being wrestled into a folding metal chair.

"What is he doing in there?"

Hearing that, Reid knew they were both behind the two-way mirror. Sighing, he rolled over and nestled into the pillows. He hoped they'd shut up soon so he could get back to sleep.

"I told you when you arrived that someone else would face consequences for any misbehavior on your part. You ran away; these are the consequences."

"You sadistic _bastard_ …"

"Think twice before you swing on me, young man," Reid heard the Director snarl. "There are consequences for violence, and they won't be faced by you."

Reid heard another thump that sounded like James had dropped back into the chair. "I don't get this. I know why you said you brought everyone else here, but what I don't get is why you brought _me_ here!"

"I have my reasons."

"And you've yet to tell me what they _are_!"

Reid wondered if they'd forgotten he could possibly hear them.

"I told you when you arrived that I would explain everything one day, but that is not today."

Silence. Then, James spoke. "What can I do?"

"Excuse me?"

"What can I do to get him out of there?" James elaborated. "You can ask me to do anything, and I'll do it. It's not fair that he's stuck in there when I'm the one who broke the rules."

"No."

"Come on," James complained. "There must be something you want from me. You took the trouble to have me brought here. You could ask for anything, and I would do it, but first you have to let him out."

Reid could imagine the Director considering this. "No, I'm sorry, James. The consequence stands; but I will allow you to win him some privileges."

"Like what?"

"Some books and music to make the time go faster," the Director offered. "Since he was put into this room, he's done nothing but sleep. Surely reading and listening to music is better than sleeping all the time?"

"What about visitors?"

"There's a reason the punishment is called 'isolation,' young man. Now, are you interested in what you have to do to get him some privileges?"

James must have nodded since the Director carried on. "First, you and I will continue having our meals together. During these meals you and I will talk in a civilized manner. I will ask you questions about yourself and you will answer them, and I would be glad to answer some questions for you in exchange. My only caveat is that there are some questions I can't answer, so if I say so, you'll have to leave a topic alone. Once a day, you and I will do an activity together, and you are welcome to choose them, if you like. Unless there is an evening activity you would like to do, we will spend our evenings together, in the sitting room, where, once again, you and I will converse in a pleasant manner and spend our time in quiet pastimes. If you follow these rules for the rest of Dr. Reid's isolation, I will see to it that he's provided with new books each day and a music player for him to listen to. Any misbehavior on your part will result in loss of these items for Dr. Reid for the next day. Do you understand?"

" _That's_ what you want me to do?" James said in disbelief, his voice rising. "You ARE crazy!"

Reid decided to remind James just what was at stake. If you looked at the situation as one of one person owing another, then James owed him. Feeling his frustration hit boiling point, Reid sat up, glared at the mirror, and threw a spare pillow at it with all his strength. A loud _fwump!_ from the pillow made silence fall behind it. He could imagine both of them being surprised at suddenly being dive-bombed by a pillow.

"I don't know what you two are talking about, but could you at least stop _yelling_? I'm trying to _sleep_!"

Silence. Then, Reid heard a door open and close. Good. He rolled back over and closed his eyes. Part of him really wanted those books and some music, but it was a small part. If the Director was hoping that the books and a music player might make Reid think a little less harshly of him, then he had a good many other thinks coming. Being locked up had helped his mind become more focused: It might not happen quickly, but Reid was going to get out of there, and he was going to make sure that the Director could never hurt anyone ever again.

* * *

It was half-past eleven that night when Aaron leaned back in his seat and palmed his tired eyes. They'd been working all day on Scott's files and he was sure that the rest of his team felt as overwhelmed as he did. There was a lot more information than they'd originally suspected existed. There was so much more information in hard-copy than Penelope had been able to find electronically, which mean this guy had been up to things for a lot longer than they'd thought. "Scott, you weren't kidding about this guy."

Scott looked up from the maps he was studying and nodded. "Yep. He's one of the biggest and most well-kept secrets I've ever come across, and don't think that doesn't frighten me."

Penelope looked up from the laptop she was typing on. "Never said a truer word. I've been inputting all this information you gave us and the patterns it reveals are...well, like you said. Frightening. Using that information, geographically, the closest I can pinpoint the possible locations where Reid might be is the southern United States, like Florida or the Gulf coast. At a stretch, maybe somewhere in the Florida Keys or the Bahamas, but so far, nothing's really matching."

"How many possible locations are there?" J.J. asked.

Penelope checked her screen. "Final count? Fifteen, with another possible two. Could be a peninsula on one of the larger islands down there, a peninsula off Florida or perhaps Louisiana...it's killing me that I just don't know."

"There has to be a way to figure out Reid's location," Emily sighed.

"Why don't we go and see?"

Everyone turned to stare at Scott.

"You guys are hopeless," he said, seeing them all stare at him in surprise. "You already know where he is, you just don't know for sure where he is. Short of a big sign showing up on one of these maps reading HERE I AM! you won't know which location he's in until you find the ones he's not in."

"Okay, I see your point, but how do you propose we eliminate locations?"

"Go there and see," Scott insisted. "Do I have to do all the thinking?"

"I'm sure a bunch of random strangers will love seeing the FBI showing up on their doorsteps," Hotch said.

"So, don't be FBI. Be a lost tourist or something. That way, you can scope a place out and see if you recognize any of the guys who took your friend."

"They've had Reid under observation, which means they've probably seen us at one time or another," Dave reminded Scott. A second later, Rossi looked very thoughtful. "In fact, the only person in this room they wouldn't recognize would probably be you."

Scott looked up with an expression in his eyes that suggested a deer meeting headlights. "What?"

A second later, everyone, except Scott, was grinning.

A/N: The Plot Bunny is now the Director. Someone send the team to save me.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Aaron sat on deck, sipped at his soda, and tried his hardest not to feel like an idiot in his Hawaiian shirt and straw Panama hat. It was his cover, and he had to maintain it, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

He felt like a demented idiot on vacation, though.

"Of all things, I'm wearing chinos," Rossi sighed quietly, studying the umbrella in his Coke.

"I have two words for you," Aaron answered, setting his sunglasses on his nose. "Flip-flops."

Rossi shrugged. "Point taken."

Derek grinned as he came up on deck. "Man, I love this. Don't you just love this?"

"I might be getting seasick," Rossi muttered.

"You're just mad you didn't think of it first," Derek teased. "Hey, Hotch, are your toes sunburned yet?"

"It's still not too late to throw you overboard, Derek," Hotch said flatly. "It's a long swim back to shore."

Morgan studied the distance. "Ah, I'd make it."

Hotch studied the little umbrella in his soda and fought the urge to sigh. The cover that Hotch had wanted to pursue had been a couple of lost travelers, but instead, he and his team were a work group on vacation. Derek had suggested it and their higher-ups had agreed that it was the more likely cover. What that meant was that they had to dress in things they would never wear, pretend to be drinking alcohol, and be loud and annoying. So far they'd stopped in three places and none of them had been the place that Reid had mapped for them. Scott was always the one who went ashore while the rest of them acted like idiots on vacation to lend verisimilitude to Scott's story. Aaron had never thought that cut-offs and a Hawaiian shirt would look natural on anyone, but they did on Scott.

At least the boat was comfortable. They had Rossi to thank for that. The original boat that the FBI was going to charter for them had been far too small to be comfortable for all of them (and Aaron hadn't wanted to try to convince someone to stay behind-Penelope had been the logical choice for that, but one look at her face told him that he would be taking his life in his hands if he tried to leave her behind). Once Rossi had gotten a look at the boat they were supposed to use, he'd shaken his head and said, "Oh, no. No, if we're going to do this we're going to be comfortable. I'm gonna make a call."

They had no idea who he'd called, but they were now on a nice, comfortable sailboat with plenty of room for all of them, above and belowdecks, plus Penelope's computers and equipment. She'd refused to leave any of it behind, so she'd claimed a very tight corner of the lounge belowdecks for her own and was busy down there, typing away.

"Anything from Garcia?" Rossi asked, trying not to be annoyed by Derek's grin.

"Baby girl is typing away and making magic, but nothing yet. She's got satellite images of all the places that match and she's been analyzing all of them. There's two places that are likely candidates, but we're not near them yet."

"I wish we had more information," J.J. said from her seat. "If only Reid could send us a few photos, or something."

"Best not to wish for what we can't have," Hotch said. "Still, I agree with you, it would be nice." He turned to Scott. "How far are we from our next location?"

"Matter of three hours," Scott said from the ship's wheel. "The next person that asks is going overboard."

"Lemme guess," Emily said from where she sat against the starboard side. "You don't want to hear any iteration of 'Are we there yet?'"

"Not in the slightest," Scott answered, adjusting the wheel a tad. "Hearing that question will just make this trip seem longer, and we don't want that. After a few more days, we'll start sniping at each other."

"Looks like you're getting a head start on the sniping," Rossi said, digging in the cooler for a new bottle of soda. "Feeling okay?"

Scott swallowed hard and looked toward the horizon. "Yeah. While I know how to sail, I'm not the best sailor, if you take my meaning. The sooner we find this kid and call in the cavalry, the better."

Rossi pulled out a ginger ale and took it to Scott. "Here. This might help."

"Thanks. Take the wheel, will you? I need a break."

Hotch noticed that the man did seem rather pale as he took a seat in Rossi's vacated chair. He looked like he might vomit at any moment.

A scream and then clatter on the stairs drew his attention to Penelope, dressed in a hot pink hibiscus sundress. She was grinning. "Guess what I found!"

All of them were staring at her. Finally, Derek spoke. "Don't leave us in suspense, Baby Girl. What is it?"

"The exact coordinates of our next destination, and it looks like there are people and buildings there!" she said excitedly, practically vibrating on the spot. She waved some papers in the air and took them to Hotch. "Look, look, look!"

Hotch looked and he had to admit that the printouts looked likely and they certainly resembled the map that Reid had drawn them. It looked like their luck might be turning.

"That's great. You guys mind if I lay down a little while? I feel like I'm gonna be sick," Scott said. "Can you handle the boat?"

"Course we can," Rossi said, waving his friend to the stairs. "You go rest; we'll let you know when we're there."

"Okay. If I die from misery on the way, my affairs are in order. Just don't let anybody do anything weird with my corpse, like reanimate it."

Once he was belowdecks, they all looked at Rossi. Hotch couldn't resist. "Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"You have some interesting friends."

"That I do. The longer you know him, the more fun he gets, especially if there's an opportunity for a conspiracy theory. Just don't mention Disney World in the coming days, all right? Take it from someone who knows."

Hotch blinked and everyone looked just as confused as he felt.

J.J. was the one to ask the question. "So, what does he have against Disney World?"

* * *

Reid sank back into his seat, ill-at-ease with his surroundings and the person he was seated across from. He hadn't expected to be called up to the white stucco house this soon after being released.

The Director smiled at him and poured him a glass of lemonade. "It's good to see you, Dr. Reid," the Director told him, holding out the glass. "I know that things have been unpleasant for you lately, so I wanted to make sure that you were all right."

Reid's expression was wooden, almost flat as he took the glass. "I'm fine."

"Please give me more credit than that, Dr. Reid," the Director told him, his tone tolerant. "You were put into isolation due to James attempting to leave, and since you left isolation a week ago, you've not seemed yourself."

Reid shrugged. "I go to my activities. I go to meals. I've been teaching two classes. I sleep in my room at night...Nothing's any different than it was before."

"That's where we differ," the Director said firmly. "You go to activities, but there's no enthusiasm, distaste, or any emotion at all. You've been eating, but you don't eat much and I have been assured by the staff that you don't seem to enjoy your meals. It's as if eating is a chore for you. You teach your classes, yes, but it's as if you're nothing more than a speaker in the front of the room-a recording shows more animation than you do."

Reid shrugged again. "Honestly, I don't see why you're concerned. I feel fine."

"Are you being honest with me about that?"

"Yes," Reid told him. "I'm not sure what else I can do to convince you, but I do feel fine."

The Director gave him a long, thoughtful look. "I see. Well, if you feel fine…"

"I do."

"Well, since you're here, why don't you have lunch with me?" the Director offered. "It's always a treat to chat with you."

"Sure, lunch sounds good."

The Director kept careful watch while they enjoyed the meal served to them. Reid ate his turkey, dressing, and peas with carrots, and he happily accepted an apple bread pudding with caramel sauce. "Mmmm," Reid said, finishing off the last bite. "How did you find the culinary staff? I'm always impressed."

"I look here and there and occasionally I'll find a jewel, pluck them out of their tarnished setting, and bring them here," the Director said. "I was wondering if there were any activities you would like to see offered."

Reid thought about it. "There's a lot on offer already. Truthfully, I still haven't done everything I've wanted to do, so I can't really think of anything new that I'd like to see."

The Director glanced at him. "Ah, well. Why don't you think about it and let me know?"

"I can do that."

The Director kept him a few minutes longer, chatting, but finally time caught up to them and Reid had to head off to his tutoring session with Mara. He gave the Director the latest letter for his mother and headed to the bike rack to unlock a bike and head off.

He kept his face impassive as he pedaled over to the research center and parked his bike, allowing only a shadow of a smile to show once he was in blind spot where the cameras couldn't get a view of his face. As soon as he moved out of the blind spot the smile was gone, but he couldn't help the feelings welling up in his chest.

The Director was worried about him, which meant that things were going according to plan.

Reid had done a lot of thinking while he'd been in isolation. The Director had had things too much his own way while Reid had been there, so it was time to make things go his way instead. During the third day of his isolation, Reid had done some emoting, and on the fourth day, he'd done even more. The fifth day he'd spent all day either in tears or pacing up and down his room, swearing a blue streak. To keep those tears flowing, he'd thought about all the difficult cases he and his team had been through, all the people they hadn't been able to help, and he also thought about the people that he, Reid, had lost. Thinking about Gideon and Maeve had caused him to cry so hard that he'd had trouble catching his breath for a few minutes, and he was sure that the Director had been informed. To keep the anger flowing, Reid thought about the unfairness of the situation they were all in, and he was able to storm and rage for a good long time. For the sixth and seventh day, Reid had been listless and quiet, and then he'd been let out. Since then, he'd kept a tight rein on his emotions, allowing precious little of them to show, and in the week since he'd left isolation, he could tell that the staff had been keeping a close eye on him as he went about his activities.

As he'd pointed out to the Director, he was doing what he was supposed to do. He went to meals and activities, he taught classes, he had social interaction, but it was as if a ghost was doing all of it. Reid did not show if he loved or loathed what he was doing or any semblance of any emotion in between.

Reid was sure it was driving the Director CRAZY, and that was just how he wanted it. Reid had a plan to induce some mental whiplash in the Director, and so far things were working perfectly. The next phase of his plan was to make it seem as if he'd accepted being there so that when he put the phase after that into motion, no one would think to look at him.

It was a long, convoluted game he was playing, but as Gideon had once told him, a winning strategy could not be rushed.

Reid had also been taking the opportunity to talk to the staff more often. It was intriguing that all of them had willingly signed on to be the Director's employees. It meant giving up their previous lives and coming to the campus and rarely leaving it, if ever. The best reason he'd been able to think of for being willing to abandon the lives they had known was that they were all running from something. Even more intriguing was that they didn't seem to mind too much. The perks and the safety that all the employees enjoyed probably had something to do with that.

"Hi, Reid," Mara said as Reid reached the room where they studied together. "How's your day been so far?"

"Can't complain," Reid admitted. "How did you do with those examples?"

She lifted the sheet and showed him. "All done! Wanna see?"

A portion of his brain was still considering his plan while he tutored Mara, but she didn't seem to notice. He finished the session as he always did by writing out examples and problems for her to work on until their next session. "Here you go. I'll see you in two days."

Reid got the shock of his life when she took the paper and hugged him. "Um...Mara?"

"Sorry," she said, letting him go. "Since you've been let out of isolation, you've not seemed like the same Reid. I'm sorry it was so hard for you."

Reid worked up a smile for her. "You're not the one who should be apologizing, Mara. Really, I'm fine. I've just been doing a lot of thinking."

She nodded. "We all go through that. If you need someone to vent to, I'm a very good listener, and I'm just down the hall."

"I'll remember that," Reid promised.

Once he and Mara parted ways, Reid biked to the Green to meet up with Claudius, so they could play chess. Claudius remarked on Reid's spirits as well, but Reid assured him that he was fine.

"You're saying that as if it's true," Claudius protested.

"Because it is true," Reid said, moving a bishop.

"Oh, damn," Claudius said once he noticed Reid's move. "You just had to use the bishop, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Reid said, allowing himself to smile. "Your move."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're bluffing?" Claudius said, studying the board.

"Plenty of people bluff in chess."

"And you're better than most," Claudius said, not looking away from the board.

Reid suddenly felt cold in the sunlight. Had Claudius managed to guess…? He hoped not. Reid knew how well he could keep secrets, but he had no idea about Claudius's capabilities. "Not really."

"Don't sell yourself short," Claudius said, moving a knight. "I'm sure you're very good."

At least Claudius could be inscrutable when he chose to be. There was that in his favor.

After the chess game Reid headed to dinner, where he joined Sean and everyone else at their usual table. He ordered turkey tetrazzini and a fruit salad for his dinner, and he joined in the conversation about Seneca's Letters from a Stoic. After dinner he biked to the rec center so he could attend his next class: rock wall climbing and rappelling. He'd signed up for it two days before, saying that he wanted to work on his hand-eye coordination. He was very, very thankful that he was wearing a harness whenever it was his turn to climb. That, and a helmet. The instructor had told him that he'd made history in being the first person to hit his head during the first class. He'd seen stars for a moment and lost his hold on the wall, and that was where the harness had come in.

"Now I see why they call you Crash," the instructor had said, helping Reid right himself and checking his eyes to make sure he hadn't done any damage to his head. "How do you feel?"

"Like an uncoordinated idiot."

"Physically?"

"I'm all right. Can I try again?"

The class met three times a week, and students were always welcome to climb the wall on their own as long as a member of the staff was free to spot them. If Reid had a spare hour, then he was in the rec center, doing his best to improve his climbing and rappelling skills. Any improvement was slow and it came in small increments, but it was there.

He'd also started taking long walks around the campus in the mornings, sometimes stopping to sketch the view and say hello to any staff that were nearby. Since being in isolation, Reid was taking the opportunity to be outside as much as he could. He'd nearly gone nuts with nothing green or growing near him and not being able to see more than a tiny square of sky. As he walked, he reflected on just how damned cruel and unnecessary the Director's system of punishment was. It was like knowing there was a giant and vicious creature over your head, ready to swoop down and maim you, but you never knew when it would strike. Even worse was the isolation-you were already feeling off balance by the punishment, and then you had nothing but a pressure cooker for your emotions for days on end. You had nothing and no one to distract you from how you were feeling, and you had no way of knowing that things would not get worse. It was no wonder to Reid why people dreaded being put in isolation.

James had come to visit him in his room almost as soon as he was released, and he apologized. "I'm sorry that my running got you put in isolation, Reid. It was a dick move."

"It wasn't a dick move on your part, it was a dick move on the Director's part," Reid said as he waved James to a chair. "He doesn't have to do the things he does, you know."

"Yeah, I know that. I wanted to be sure that you knew how sorry I was."

"Again, it's not your fault, James. Tell me, what have you been up to while I was in isolation?"

"Struggling with murderous rage," James said.

Reid's lips quirked in a smile. "Oh, really? Do tell."

"I've seen a lot of weird stuff as a cop, but this guy is a whole new level of weird," James sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "He's like...Willy Wonka turned Hannibal Lecter-style creepy."

Reid felt his eyebrows climb toward the top of his head. "Wow. That's...you're right, that's a whole other level."

"Yeah, he starts out all jovial and nice and then he gradually inches closer to me and then he's being super-nice and manipulative to make sure I do what he wants me to do. I have to ask his permission to go outside now, I have to let him know where I'm going, and I am now required to spend time with him and do activities with him. It's just...weird, you know."

"Do you feel as if he's a threat to your safety?" Reid asked, thinking about all the stalker and kidnapping cases he'd worked on. Such situations could turn bad very quickly for the victims.

"My physical safety? No," James said, shaking his head. "Call me crazy, but I don't feel like he would ever hurt me. My mental safety? Maybe. I just feel like he wants something from me and that he's getting it just by having me around, but damned if I know what it is."

Reid shrugged. "You may never know, not unless he tells you."

"Oh, believe me, I've asked."

"What kinds of things does he have you do?"

"Normal things, which in this situation, is odd," James stated. "He wants me to choose activities we can do together-how nuts is that? In the evenings, we have to spend time together and talk. Those conversations are painful since he's full of questions about me and he'll only answer certain questions about himself."

Reid thought about this. "Has there been a pattern or theme to his questions?"

"Yeah...me," James answered. "What do I like to do? What did I do when I was younger? What are my favorite things to eat? What do I like to read? What were my favorite subjects in school? What's something I've always wanted to do? What made me decide to be a cop? Did I just want to be a cop, or was being a cop a stepping-stone to something else? Did I have anyone special before I was brought here? Have I ever thought about getting married? Have I thought about children? Like I said, it's all me, and it's starting to be creepy. I...just don't know what to do about it."

"Huh," Reid said thoughtfully. "Sounds…"

"Creepy," Jame supplied.

"I was going to say, sounds like a really pushy parent with an over-proprietary interest in a perfect stranger, but creepy works."

James took one look at him and started laughing.

Thinking back on that exchange now, Reid smiled. He was sure the Director was going to get a big surprise.

Author's Note: I'M BAAAAAA-AAACK! I have had one hellacious period of time, but I have finally managed to get back to this. I've momentarily escaped the Director to upload the latest chapter. Kudos if you can figure out what Reid's planning. Later!


End file.
